The Road Home
by Gina Mary
Summary: AU everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges friends & family to escape her wedding. But when she makes it back home, single, she finds an insufferable roommate waiting for her without who, home wouldn't be home. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

**_ Prologue:_**

If it had been possible to look into the blackened out windows of the Desoto that roared down the streets of Los Angeles that late summer afternoon, people would've wondered why a man with looks like his, a car like that, who was now slowing down in a street thousands would love to live on was in such a bad mood.

Of course, William Giles wasn't a materialistic man. He'd be happy living under a coat propped up by sticks if it was with the woman he loved. If all he had was an old bicycle to ride around, he'd be content if his girl was with him. He didn't care if he had all the money in the world (which, to be honest, he kinda did) but if he didn't have his love, his dove, his princess, his Dru with him, he'd be miserable.

And that was why anyone who knew him would understand Will's current state of mood: he'd just been dumped.

And, in turn, that was why when he screeched to a halt in front of the two-storied house in the Sun Valley, he couldn't bring himself to care about the flowers that he stomped and beat through. Oh, the neighbours basking in the afternoon sun did, of course, and he didn't miss the low, scandalized cries directed at him, nor was he unaware of the glares directed at his black, leather-clad back. He swaggered up the steps of the porch, stomping his boots heavily, and he brought up his fist to pound, now, on the mahogany door. But before his and could reach the wood, the door slid open.

The blonde standing on the other side leaned against the heavy door with one perfectly arched eyebrow raised in exasperation.

Glaring at her, he stalked in, not saying a word, and sank down bonelessly on the bottom step of the staircase in the foyer. Shaking her head, she waved a hand at the neighbours, signalling that it was alright for them to go back to their own business now. They waved back sheepishly. She closed the door and looked at him, arms crossed against her chest.

Will, not paying attention to the other bottle blonde in the room, lit up. As he took a deep drag from his cigarette, closed eyes opened and he looked at her and the brown cat that circled her trouser-clad legs. There was an accusing note in his eyes, as though he was saying this was all her fault.

She rolled her eyes in response. "Gee," She said in a dry voice, "come in, why don't you? Make yourself at home!"

Will growled, "'urry up. Both, you and me, 'ave other bloody places to be."

She looked pointedly at the polished wooden floors that were now covered with the flowers and manure he'd brought in with his Doc Martens. "Fine. But you're going to have to clean this up! Now, follow me, and I'll show you around. You'll be living here awhile so you'd better know where everything is." And she stalked off towards the right, where the living room was.

Will stayed where he was, taking deep puffs of his cigarette. The brown cat stayed there, too, looking at him with a cocked head. Will stared at the cat, now, his eyes narrowing to match its own. The cat, as though it understood, what Will was doing, never broke their eye contact as it stretched, its harmless-looking paws extending into sharp, long, painful-looking claws.

Will's eyes widened, then narrowed again. He leaned forwards, towards the cat, opening his mouth as if to say…

"Spike! Are you coming or not! I'm doing this for you, and FYI, I'm missing out on my daily afternoon orgasms!"

…and fell promptly on his face, inches away from the claws of the cat he'd been looking at. With a flick and bend of his brown-black striped tail, the cat walked off, leaving behind a moaning, twitching Will.

* * *

"He is _ such_ a bother, Xander! I don't know why I offered to help him out! I mean, just because his girlfriend kicks him out doesn't mean _I_ have to give him my home, my sacred space where I am at my creative best! Heck, it's his fault in the first place! I mean, come _on_! You refuse a woman sex, shopping sprees, or, in Buffy's case, cats, dogs, clothes or swords and she's going to get back at you somehow! He should've known better, and—"

"Ahn," Xander said in a civil tone as he wheeled their three suitcases and one airbag (the latter was his; the cases were all hers) towards check-in. "Please speak louder. I'm not sure that all the passengers heard you over the racket the airplanes make." When she glared at him, he sighed, dropping the sarcasm and said, "Look, I'm going to have to disagree with you on this one. Spike's done more for Dru than he has for any girl he ever dated! He practically spent all he had to please her, for Christ's sake!

He wanted to marry her, Ahn, like I want to marry you, like Buffy's marrying… that lump, Angel! Now, I never approved of her—" he broke off, irritated, as she burst out laughing. When she was a little quieter he continued, "But he loved her, and wanted to marry her, and she just wanted to have fun. She squeezed him dry, and then threw him in the gutter. Dumped him, just like," he snapped his fingers, "that! I'm glad it happened but…" Xander sighed. "I'd always hoped it was Spike who decided to break off. It's sad that he's always the one being dumped."

Anya nodded. "Yes. Why can't someone else be the dump-ee for a change? When will he get his one good day?"

Xander nodded. "Heck, or even one good lay?"

Anya burst out laughing again. As the guards at the LAX watched in amazement, she wrapped her arms around her fiancé's neck and kissed him. When she pulled away to reveal a scarlet-faced Xander, she said, "I'm rubbing off on you in more than one way! I love you, Xander." And buried herself in his arms again.

Surprised, he put one hand on her back and said, inhaling her perfume. "I love you too, Anya."

* * *

_It's never been hard for me to say how much I love you. But… less than a month away from the wedding, and I find that the more I think about it, the more I realize that I do love you, but… its been a while since I've been in love with you._

_ Yeah, I know, it's been said before and is extremely cliché, but its, in the end the truth and…_

"Oh, for God's sake," Buffy mumbled as she crumpled this sheet of paper in her fist as well. She sighed and laid her head down on the hotel desk, the soft music that played in her empty, fifth-floor deluxe suite doing nothing to ease her nerves.

Buffy looked out the window in front of her. Through the steady drizzle, she could see the determined shoppers of London make their way through wet sidewalks, taking care as to not be splashed by any of the cars that were rushing to get home. She admired, especially, one lone girl who made her way through the wet, grumpy crowds with just about twenty bags in her hands. She'd obviously forgotten her raincoat, and though Buffy could see the umbrella at her side, unlike many of the couples on that road, she had nobody to hold it up for her.

Buffy liked to think of herself like that. Never one to run from a challenge, to look it in the eye, say: Boo! and scare the challenge away herself. That's how she'd lived her life ever since senior year in high school, when she'd broken things off with Angel because of two things: A) She couldn't handle long-distance relationships. She was in L.A., at school, while he was in Boston, at Harvard. B) She wanted to break free, for once, and understand what she wanted. In their three year relationship, Angel's wishes and Buffy's dreams had mixed up till all she saw was what he wanted, did what he thought was right. Here's a change: what did she want? What did she think was right?

She found out in the four years of doing an Art major at PAFA. In Philadelphia, Buffy found out what she could do with the little drawings she made in History class at high school. She flipped off her Dad's insisting she do a degree in business administration, deciding, instead, to follow her Mum, her heart and her hand. She was determined to do that all her life.

And yet, here she was, sitting in a hotel suite where she was supposed to blow off steam with her fiancé, while all she wanted to do was go to L.A. and lock herself in the house she'd shared with Anya ever since graduation. What was more, the fiancé wasn't here, and wouldn't be for another week.

Well, not for long.

Absentmindedly, Buffy bit into one of the stale chocolate chip cookies that sat on a plate in front of her. She smiled, the chocolate jerking her back into the past. Tara made chocolate cookies like that, she thought, the kind that tasted best when stale and the chocolate chips were semi-hard, but the cookie soft.

She remembered one time, in her second year, when she'd had the flu. Tara, who took evening classes, had been making cookies in the kitchen their floor of the dorms shared. Buffy had woken up to the smell of melting chocolate and, wrapping around her a chenille throw, crept out, barefoot, to the kitchen. It was empty, but on a rack Buffy found the source of the delicious aroma. She reached out to take one, and just when she was going to put it into her mouth, a hand came out of nowhere and whacked her hard on the back of her hand with a spatula.

"Not now," Tara'd scolded her like Joyce sometimes did. "They're undone and you'll get a tummy-ache."

"But, Tara," Buffy had whined, rubbing her hand, "Later everyone will eat them all!"

Tara shook her head, and said in a motherly tone that made her homesick, "I made them just for you, Buffy. You can have them all later, and decide who you want to share them with."

In the hotel suite, Buffy's eyes misted over. Maybe that was why none of them at the dorms had felt homesick; Tara, the mother hen, had always been there to take care of everyone, make everyone feel special whenever they needed it. Buffy sure wished Tara was around, now. No chocolate chip cookies could outdo hers. Fully baked, dough, batter, undone…

Suddenly, something in Buffy clicked. She sat up, eyes wide, and one of her hands flew to cover her mouth. "Oh. My. God," she said, in an awe-filled voice, slapping her forehead. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

And grabbing a pen, Buffy pulled out yet another sheet of paper, chucking the ball of paper rolled up in her hand over her shoulder at the wastepaper basket. As the dappled sunshine of the English sun watched her through the windows, the ball of paper landed smoothly in the basket it was meant for.


	2. Of Arriving, Departing and Angry Cats

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A, she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

**_1. Of Arriving, Departing and Angry Cats_**

"So… you wrote a note and left? That's it?" Indirectly, the tone was incredulous and disbelieving, the speaker's surprise at Buffy's actions showing through.

It was hard for Buffy to answer that question. After all, it was the one that kept poking at her inner conscience, all week, reminding her that this wasn't how things should be done. It kept whispering in her ear, you aren't supposed to run away! It's wrong! You owe him at least a proper explanation.

She knew that; she knew it all too well. But how else could she have broken off things with Liam 'Angel' Spencer? Their relationship, before and after college, had been the most significant in her life so far. In high school, they'd been together from her first day as a freshman, when he'd dropped her books and, instead of walking off, had actually apologized, over and over, while bending to pick them up for her. No other sophomore, she'd insisted to Xander, would do that for a freshman. And when he'd asked her out for dinner at the end of the week, her answer was an automatic 'yes'.

Time passed, and his rigid belief in what was right for her began irking Buffy. When he left for Harvard, she was somehow relieved, and yet miserable, to have a reason to break up with him. When she emerged from her bedroom at the end of that summer, it may have been with swollen eyes, but, as Xander often pointed out, it was also with a new, free spirit, no longer dominated by a presence stronger than hers.

Then, two years after she graduated from PAFA, she ran into him on the beach in L.A. She was fighting with the guy at the hot-dog stand for overpricing his merchandise when she heard a voice behind her go, "Oh, man, Buffy?"

And, lo and behold, behind her stood Angel, clothed absurdly for the beach, in an Armani suit, his Ray Bans propped up on his forehead. He looked both surprised and amused to see her, and she later found his amusement was in the fact that she was actually arguing with the hot-dog vendor. They'd made small-talk for a few minutes before she looked, biting her lower lip, over the shoulder of her one piece. He noticed and asked her, politely, if she was here with someone. Buffy explained uncomfortably about Anya, who Buffy was trying to convince that public beaches were better than nude ones. He'd laughed and let her go, and she had, never expecting to hear from him again.

He'd called that very night. Asked her out for dinner, and she, upon Anya's prompting, agreed, albeit reluctantly.

The man she ate with that night was almost nothing like the man she'd broken up with seven years ago. He was polite, let _her_ order for herself, and even agreed to share the bill, respecting her as a woman and a person. He told her of his new job at Wolfram & Hart, for who he was attending a seminar in town. She told him how she'd opened her own gallery. They discussed past times, her inheriting he mum's business-adeptness, his life in New York, the weather, why he hated the beach, everything. To Buffy, it was like getting to know him again, the new him. She _liked_ the new him a lot more than the old one. But she knew it was going nowhere, him being in New York and her in L.A.

And then, he'd been transferred to L.A. To her surprise, he ambled into her gallery one day and asked Kate, her receptionist, if they were affiliated with any decorators, as he needed decorating done. To say she was surprised would've been an understatement. He'd grinned when he noticed her behind Kate, mouth open, and waved a little hand. "Hey, Buff."

And as simple as that, he was back in her life.

And with the note she'd written, he'd be out.

Buffy sighed, stirring her coffee with a spoon. "I didn't know what else to do, Tara. Yes, I know it's the cowardly way out but… I didn't have the strength to break his heart again, and see him while I did it."

Tara shook her head, the neat ponytail at the back moving, too. She asked in a quiet voice, "Buffy. Do you really think he's out of your life? Will you really never have to face him again? Honestly, Buffy, tell me; do you really believe that?"

Buffy had already though a lot about this one. "Tara, he moved to D.C. practically half a year back. He's got nothing left in L.A. Well, except me. And we haven't even started moving my stuff, you know. Very little of it is packed. I felt so reluctant to move anything from its place at home, you know, almost as if subconsciously I knew the wedding wasn't going to happen—"

"Why?" Upon Buffy's blank look, she elaborated: "Why did you subconsciously feel it wasn't meant to be?"

Now, this was hard. Maybe she shouldn't have come to Tara, she thought, right now. The grey New York weather made the professional, 28 year old therapist look tired, and somehow, Buffy felt she'd come at the wrong time. The shadows under Tara's eyes, which Buffy had noticed the second she opened the door to her apartment on Fifth, had definitely not been there a month ago, when they'd met at the Smithsonian in D.C. Perhaps, it was because the offhand brunette, Kennedy, Tara had brought to D.C. wasn't around. Buffy knew Tara; she knew that if Tara had recently broken up, the questions she was asking were not just for Buffy, but also, somehow, Kennedy.

"I don't know," she said, apprehensively, "its may be because whenever I'm with him, I still think of what Angel, the school Angel, would've wanted done. Cause, he's so… perfect. I felt the need to be perfect, too. I felt suffocated with him." She broke off, biting her lip, then began, her voice more tentative than ever, "Also… probably because… well, the spark wasn't there?" At Tara's nod of encouragement, her voice grew confident. "Yeah, that's it. I knew Angel in school, and then, it was all about the attraction. This time, however… he was perfect. Perfect, you know, boyfriend material: good looking, polite, expressive, sweet, well-earning, everything. But the spark, the click wasn't there, you know? Because no matter how much I tried, this time, the pull wasn't there. I had changed; I didn't need a replacement for my Dad anymore, you know, to watch over me, like he did in school. I needed a…"

"A soulmate." Tara said, her grey eyes full of understanding.

Buffy reflected upon this. Then she looked up, hazel eyes reflecting amazement, and said, "Yeah. A soulmate."

* * *

Liam Spencer leaned back in his business-class seat, an arm thrown tiredly over his eyes. It was a matter of minutes before they'd arrive at Heathrow, London, where he'd have to take a quick cab to Le Meridien, where he'd be back with his Buffy, the beautiful person he'd seen change from a shy, reserved girl to a confident, bold woman who could make her own decisions. But his mind, however, was not on the blonde at all. It was with Cordelia Chase, the latest addition to the Washington D.C. team of W&H. 

When he'd first arrived at the offices in Rome, Angel had noticed straightaway the tall, tanned brunette of clear Spanish descent who stood at the back of the elevator. He kept sneaking looks at her, wondering exactly why she winced every time someone in front of her moved, or the elevator jerked. He found out soon enough; when the elevator emptied itself out on tenth floor, leaving just the two of them, he watched as she heaved a relieved sigh and dropped her purse, crouching down and cradling her left ankle. Angel looked, too, and noticed the wound. His eyes widened and, cursing, he crouched down next to her and batted her hands away from the injury. "What happened?" he asked, as he whipped out a clean white handkerchief to tie around her ankle.

"I-I tripped," she explained, shakily, "on the Spanish Steps. I was late for my meeting, so I didn't st-stop anywhere. They say the n-new boss is a temperamental freak."

He chuckled, concentrating on bandaging the wound with his makeshift dressing. When the doors of the elevator opened on the nineteenth floor, she asked him if he could help her and he'd offered that he'd be glad to. As they slipped out, Angel inwardly thanked God that nobody had stopped the elevator between the tenth and the nineteenth floor. One of her arms around his neck, one of his around her waist, he supported her to where she directed.

He himself had no idea where the corporate law meeting was being held. He figured he'd ask around, later. But when he pushed open the door she asked him to, he realized he'd found the meeting. Amidst the low, mass murmur of ''morning, Mr. Spencer' by his colleagues, he glanced at Cordelia, who had visibly paled, and was staring back him with wide eyes. She swallowed, visibly, and said, even more shakily than before, "Um, I meant my new, m-mental g-genius, go-good tem-tempered boss!"

He was still chuckling as he got off the plane, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his brown coat. As he approached the baggage claim, his mind remembered one of the details of his many conversations with Cordelia the past week. _She's going to be in __Rome for another week…_

And, before Angel knew what he was doing, he had booked himself a ticket on the same flight he had just gotten off. As he sat on the benches at the airport, the silliest of grins on his face, Angel pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number he had become extremely familiar with over the last two years. When he got her voicemail, Angel wasn't surprised; she hardly ever picked up.

"Hey, sweetie, it's Angel. So sorry, but the meeting's going to be extended a little. I'll be back before the end of the week, though, I promise. Are Anya and Xander there yet? Call if you've got the time. Love you, Buffy."

As he hung up, Angel felt a mist of apprehension seep into his mind. He was getting married at the end of the month, after all, so what was he doing lying to his fiancée, to sneakily spend time with a girl he'd known for lesser than a week? Was he getting cold feet? No, no, he reassured himself. He wanted to marry Buffy, and that was that. With Cordelia, it was just his rescue-complex kicking in. Sweet girl definitely needed his help… plus, he had to work with her, so technically, he was doing nothing wrong at all.

After all, he mentally scoffed, it wasn't like he was going to cheat on Buffy! Really! Even if Cordelia seemed to understand him in a week more than Buffy had after two years, didn't mean the love he had for the blonde had suddenly dissipated. Just because he seemed to have found the perfect partner for him, even though he knew her for just a week, didn't mean he was going to drop two years of comfortable compatibility and warmth. After all, passion wasn't everything. No, of course everything would be fine. It had to be.

It had to be.

* * *

"Nice room," Xander remarked, coat on his arm as he entered the suite Angel had booked for them. 

Anya turned around, mouth open in shock. "_Nice?"_ she hissed, "_Nice? _That's _all_ you can say!"

He grinned and looked about. One of the best rooms in Waldorf, he wondered why, exactly, Angel was willing to have the two of them over practically a month before the wedding and pay for their stay. Course, Xander wouldn't let him. Anya might disagree, but Xander had his principles, and one of them was 'Neither be a lender, nor a borrower be'. His senior spring play had cast him in the role of Antonio, and in spite of the happy ending, Xander had learnt quite a lesson. Plus, he thought as he took in the Jacuzzi, satellite TV, mini-bar, Angel already had to spend on the wedding, Buffy, the honeymoon, Buffy, their new house, Buffy, etc. without him adding to the poor guy's expenses.

"Oh, who am I kidding? We're not leaving this room till Buffy breaks down the door!" And, saying so, he tackled the blonde to the huge, king-sized bed with a canopy, laughs and giggles giving way to low moans.

* * *

Will spent his first few days in L.A. outside the house. He played pool, got drunk, cheated at poker, got into a bar fight, got kicked out only to go and repeat the process at another trashy pub. He woke on the fourth day with a throbbing head and vowed to not touch alcohol for what little was left of the week. He also noticed the cat, Pontiac (weird name for a cat, he'd thought), was following him wherever he went, and he didn't leave the house for the rest of the week, purring. 

Or rather, Will discover when he bent down to pet the brown-black feline on his fourth day home, growling.

"Bloody, fuckin' 'ell!" He roared as Pontiac's sharp teeth, the ones he'd showed off the very first day, sank into the skin of his hand. He pulled his hand away, yowling and screaming while the cat sat there, looking peaceful now, watching him.

Will rushed to the bathroom, where he washed his hand and, to ebb the pain away, shook his wet hand, splattering drops of water all over the mirror, the tiles and the cat, who had followed him. Pontiac hissed, hair rising as he sat up on his haunches.

Will stopped, eyes narrowing at the cat. "What in the name of 'ell possessed you to do _that_?" He screamed at the cat while yanking the medicine cabinet open with his uninjured hand. He pulled out some cotton and a bottle of antiseptic. "Don't you know I 'ate antiseptics! They bloody sting! And… o', for God's sake," he muttered as he applied the antiseptic to his knuckles, palm and fingers. He winced at the throb the liquid brought. The damn cat had done a lot of damage in a very short time. "I'm talking to a bleedin' cat. Man, I am so, _so_ screwed." He looked at Pontiac, blaming him for it all.

It was then that he noticed the cat was shivering. Will frowned, and got off the toilet seat, slipping down on the tiled floor next to the tub where Pontiac lay curled up. Tentatively, Will stretched out a hand; when there was no growl, or hardly any acknowledgement of the hand at all, he touched the cat's fur. Beneath it, he could feel the bones. Frowning a bit, Will stroked the cat gently, wondering what was wrong. Then, he noticed that one of Pontiac's paws was hanging in an odd way. Gently, Will picked it up and rolled it in his hand. A small sound, something like a whimper, escaped the cat. Will sighed, let the paw go and picked the cat up cautiously, softly, his own pain forgotten as he took Pontiac down to the kitchen.

He carefully put the cat into its basket, making sure the hurt paw wasn't crushed under its weight. Then he looked around the kitchen, eyes hunting for the water and food dishes he was sure Anya had showed him. He noticed them, shoved thoughtlessly under the sink, and bit his lip shamefully.

Will retrieved the empty dishes, filled them with water and cat food, and retrieved an old bowl which he filled with milk. As he put the milk back into the fridge, he noticed there was hardly anything to eat in there; chocolate, cheese, milk, chocolate syrup, some mangoes and oranges, but that was it. As he placed the saucers before Pontiac, he made a mental note to buy groceries tomorrow morning. The cat sniffed suspiciously at the food, then bent down cautiously and took a bite, eyes on Will. After few more bites, Pontiac decided it was all right and happily dug into the food he'd been denied for almost a week.

Will sat there on the floor of the kitchen, watching the cat, and later bandaged his paw. Morning found him asleep on the floor of the kitchen, Pontiac spread across his chest, both purring away.


	3. Someone to Watch Over Me

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: If anyone's reading this, sorry if the update took so long. My kitten died and I was too depressed to write. Updates will take long, now, I've got tons of work everyday, but they'll come, believe me._

**_2. Someone to Watch over Me_**

Tara had realized Buffy was ill on the elevator back to her apartment. After having coffee in the evening, they'd proceeded to the multiplex to take their minds off the heavy emotions Tara had stirred up in them both. But the cinema was packed, so instead they went dancing, where instead of letting her body go with the beat of the music, Buffy had sat in a corner, sipping a martini and eating salted cashews. After an hour of that, Tara took Buffy to an Italian restaurant in the Village where, again, Buffy hardly ate any of the food they ordered. Tara first thought it was her running away from Angel that had Buffy so low, but when she saw her hugging her coat to herself in spite of the sweltering heat of June, Tara realized Buffy had fever.

Tara now stood leaning against the doorframe of the spare bedroom of her apartment, watching Buffy's slight form rising and falling, gently, as she slept curled under the yellow comforter. She smiled wistfully, remembering the times she'd played nurse to her dorm-mates. The cold pills Buffy had taken had quick effect and as Buffy's muted snoring filled the room, Tara closed the door.

Her arms crossed in front of her chest, she rubbed her hands on her upper arms as she approached the windows in her living room that overlooked the city. The view from the 12th floor was amazing, even though there were higher buildings all around. Tara watched as the nightly drizzle made its way down, her body pressed against the cold glass of the windows to relieve itself of some heat.

There were empty spots on the walls where Kennedy's things had been. Tara kept her back turned to them, her eyes choosing to ignore rather than face reality. Her mind, however, raced away.

Buffy's situation hardly threw light on what had happened between Kennedy and her. There was a lot of guesswork there, a lot of guessing so as to find the main cause of their break-up. Was it because the spark was gone? Did Kennedy feel suffocated around Tara? Tara stood and thought into the night, grey eyes under a furrowed brow growing red with tiredness.

It wasn't that hard; it was actually too simple. There hadn't been a spark; Kennedy had been a baby for Tara to mother. But Kennedy didn't want mothering, she was all too independent. She didn't need Tara; and so she had left.

Tara snorted, watching the glass mist up in front of her eyes. That was an oversimplification as to what had happened. There had to be a better reason; Tara wasn't so motherly that a relationship would fail because of it. No. She was motherly when needed, otherwise she knew how to have fun, how to let go, too. Kennedy just hadn't stuck around long enough to see that.

Right?

Tara pulled herself away from the windows and threw herself onto the divan she kept in the living room. She sighed, and, as her exhausted eyes fluttered shut, she realized she was overanalyzing. It was simple; she was wrong.

* * *

Buffy frowned. Why couldn't she hit the right keys on the phone? Wasn't that hard . . .

She'd woken up after two in the afternoon, jet lag and fever causing her to sleep for 14 hours, straight. She felt a lot better, although she was worried as to where Tara was. When she found the note on the fridge, held up by a Homer Simpson magnet, she relaxed.

_Hey, sleepyhead. Sorry I'm not there; I waited till __ noon but you were still out. I'm visiting a friend at St. Vincent's, then going grocery shopping. I'll be back by five. Love, Tara_

After having a Rueben sandwich washed down with iced tea, Buffy lay on the divan, full and drowsy once more. Tara's cordless phone was in her hand. She squinted up at it, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes for a moment so she could dial the number. After getting the wrong number thrice, Buffy cursed and rushed to the bathroom where she splashed cold water onto her face. Shaking her head like a dog to get rid of the excess water, Buffy looked at herself in the mirror. She saw ragged blonde hair, red puffy eyes and dirty skin.

Choosing to ignore that, she returned to the living room where she sat down on the divan, and picked up the phone. A determined look on her face, Buffy dialed the number, and when it was picked up on the third ring by a voice she recognized, she grinned.

"Hey, it's me, Buff." A chirpy, breathless and excited voice traveled across miles of telephone wire to meet her ear. Buffy laughed. "Yeah, me too! Now, calm down and listen, I need a favor . . ."

* * *

Hand in hand, Anya and Xander made their way down to the reception. Together, the two of them glowed and everyone in the lobby stopped, for a moment, to admire the happy couple.

Xander opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Anya silenced him with a perfectly manicured hand and said, "Yes, I know what you're going to say. You feel guilty that we've been here an entire day, having wonderful orgasms while poor Buffy stays alone in her room, waiting for company. I know you wish we had found her first because, yes, I know she's your childhood friend and you want to be with her in this all the way. I know you feel guilty, Xander, and think we shouldn't have had so much sex, and rather found Buffy, but don't worry! Buffy knows how easy you are; she won't mind. She'll give me the evil eyes, obviously, but whatever she says, Xan, you _don't_ have to feel guilty. Pleasure first, always remember! Pleasure comes first!"

Xander's eyes widened. Those standing around them froze, looking at Anya in a scandalized, horrified manner. He swallowed and said, "Sorry. Americans, you know, big-mouthed as always," in his best British accent. He knew he didn't throw anyone off, but at least they left them alone after a roll of their eyes. He turned back to Anya and said, flatly, "Actually, I was going to ask you where you got those shoes. Buffy has the same ones."

Anya blinked, then looked down at her Prada pumps. "Why, yes. They're hers. Why?"

Xander smiled and hugged her close, "I gave them to her on her birthday, see." Lowering is voice, he said, "Though it's nice to know you have a conscience, and it cares more about your friends than orgasms."

Anya hugged him back, hit him playfully on his chest. Then the two pulled apart and walked to the reception. The blonde British girl behind the counter smiled at them, and Xander smiled back. Giving her fiancé the Evil Eye, Anya stepped forwards and asked, suddenly businesslike, "We'd like to know what room Elizabeth Summers and Liam Spencer are sharing. We're their friends, Xander Harris and Anya Jenkins; our reservations were made under Mr. Spencer's name?"

The girl nodded, blushing, and typed away quickly on her computer. Xander gaped at Anya, feeling, suddenly, very turned on. As he hugged Anya from behind, the receptionist spoke up, "Well, we have Mr. Spencer and Miss Summers checking in last week, in two different rooms. Then Mr. Spencer checked out, reserved the same room for yesterday, but he hasn't arrived. And Miss Summers, it seems . . ." She peered into the computer, brow furrowed. ". . . left last week?" She looked questioningly at her co-receptionist, and nodded at Anya and Xander. "She left last Monday."

Anya's eyes widened. "What?" she cried out. "She left? _Last week?_ Why? Where'd she go? Why the hell didn't she even lea—"

"She left this note, though. Her instructions were to deliver it to you, Mr. Harris or Mr. Spencer, whoever arrived first."

* * *

Will was still rubbing his eyes of sleep when he heard the jangling of keys and footsteps in the foyer. Instantly, he was wide awake, his ears alert for any noise from whoever was creeping around his house. He looked around for a weapon and noticed a black and brown tail slinking out of the kitchen. He winced, fearing for the cat's safety.

Ignoring the slight pangs in his hand, he got to his feet and noiselessly crept to the doorway that led to the dining room. His face towards the door, his back toward the kitchen, Will reached behind him for a weapon; his hands came away with a frying pan. He grimaced at the cliché, then accepted it with a shrug. After all, it had always proven useful in the movies.

He listened intently for noise from the intruder, keeping himself hidden. When none came, he leant the slightest bit forward, to peek around the doorframe and . . .

. . . with a loud _ crash! _he recoiled in pain as his head met another. Screaming bloody murder, he backed into the kitchen, his eyes and head hurting far too much to make use of the pan in his hands and notice the yelps of pain that were definitely not coming from him. After all, he didn't _yelp_.

When the pain subsided a bit, Will opened his streaming eyes and rubbed the top of his head. He didn't see his attacker straight away; he looked around confusedly for a whole minute before realizing that the groans were coming from somewhere around his knee. He looked down, and was transfixed, immediately, by the pixie he saw.

A small pale face surrounded by a halo of auburn that was currently contorted with pain as she rubbed the top of her head like he was, too. She hardly seemed harmful; too tiny a slip of a woman to do a Big bad like him any harm. He noticed the coaster holder by her side and gave her points for originality. His own weapon slipped uselessly to greet his boots. The noise was dulled by the rugs beneath but it was enough for the small creature before him, and not just the cat, to look up.

The pain faded and a look of complete determination came down. But just before the determination, he saw, in her green eyes, a flash of fear. Raising his arms in surrender, he sank down to her level and said, softly, "Hey, pet. Mind telling me what you're doing in my house?"

Ignoring his proffered hand, she stood up a bit shakily and said, "Your house? I think not!" Her tone was fierce, but a bit wobbly as she continued, "This is my friend Buffy's house, and I know for a fact that you're not supposed to be here. So why don't you just get the hell out before I call the cops?"

He grinned. "No, 'm not Buffy's friend, Red. 'm Anya's friend from college, William Giles. And you would be?"

"Willow Rosenberg, but Anya didn't tell me about any William Giles. She told me maybe a friend of hers, Spike, would come to live here, but . . ." She looked him up and down, frowning, then her eyes widened in realization. "Oh, my. You look like a Spike. Are you Spike?"

He sighed, rubbing his injured hand through his hair. "Ol' college nickname," he admitted. "Prefer Will, though."

She grinned; his heart gave a tiny flutter, the first in a long time. "No can do, Spikey. I'm Wills. You pick another name."

He smiled. "Will, pet, and Wills. A letter can make all the difference. But, you can call me whatever you want, Red. I don't mind." He flirted outrageously. In the back of his mind, he saw Anya roll her eyes.

Willow tilted her head back and looked at him, hard. If she noticed the nickname, she didn't show it, which probably meant she didn't mind. "Fine. You're Will, then."

"Yes, I am, Red."

"And I'm Red?"

He looked her up and down again, then grinned wolfishly. "'course you are."


	4. Glitter Green

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to _ _L.A.__, she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

**_3. Glitter Green_**

He wished he'd thought this through.

He'd started fidgeting in his chair the instant he'd opened his menu card and seen the long, foreign names of dishes with the huge, unfamiliar prices. While his dinner-guest pointed excitedly at foods he'd never heard of before, Will wondered how many nights at a cheap motel he could have spent in exchange for how much this meal was going to cost. Anyone who could tell what was going through Will's head right now and also knew who his dad was would've wondered why, exactly, was money a problem with the young man. After all, he was rich, right?

Wrong. Will wasn't rich; his dad was. And Rupert Giles was a man of principles and according to his philosophy, you only got what you worked for. And, till date, 27 year old Will had hardly worked, in his dad's eyes. And as just recently Will had fled from New York to San Francisco for Drusilla, who then dumped him and he rushed off to Los Angeles without his father's approval, Will was short of cash.

But not so short that he wouldn't blow all he had on an extravagant dinner with the neighbor of the roommate of an old college friend of his.

Said neighbor looked stunning tonight in a short, well-fitted dress of black, her shoulder length auburn hair looking shorter as it was curled to perfection. So, instead of worrying how much this evening would cost him, Will snapped shut the menu card and instead stared at Willow.

Twice the waiter came; twice he was waved away discreetly by Will. As he admired the way one particular lock of hair fell into her face, Willow looked up. Her glittering green eyes met his; she smiled. No dimples, he noticed idly. Oh, well. They weren't all that mattered.

His eyes moved all over her face. When they came to her perfectly painted lips, he noticed they were moving. He blinked, realizing she was talking, and snapped his attention to her words as she finished – "So, what do you think? Should we?"

He blinked once more, and said with an apologetic smile, "Sorry, I wasn't listening. You . . . distracted me otherwise." His lips moved into a practiced, flirty smirk that set heart aflutter wherever he went.

She grinned. He was taken aback. Not the ideal response to one of his direct advances, but there was something different about Willow, something he couldn't put his finger on. "I said, did you take up French in school? Because I didn't, and I've been pretending I know what I'm pointing at, but what I thought was pork ribs turns out to be snails, so should we ask the waiter to suggest? Or should we go somewhere else?"

"It's your evening, pet. You decide. 'm new to L.A., don't really know good restaurants 'round. You tell me.'

She coiled a strand of hair around her finger, thinking. Then, with a sigh, she said, "I have no idea, Will. Fancy place wise, I suck. If you want to break out of the 'elegant, exquisite and expensive' frame," she said, emphasizing with air quotes, "we've got lots of cheap, dirty but excellent bars and fast food joints to choose from.

"My favorite is this hot-dog stand near the marina only locals know about, and it's free from tourists and very serene, especially at night. You've got the sea breeze in your hair, the salty tang of the ocean everywhere and the noises of the local bands playing nearby mingle with the sounds of the wave. It's just. . ." she sighed, "so peaceful."

He grinned. If she talked so passionately of the place, it must be worth seeing. "Well, pet, then what're you waiting for? Let's go."

She blinked, then blushed. "But we can't just leave without having something. How embarrassing!"

She stood up, nonetheless, and he held out the chair for her. As he wrapped her silvery, gauzy slip of a shawl around her slim shoulders, Will grinned and said, "' think we're doing the snails a favor, luv."

* * *

_Wait. Stop. Don't._

_ I think I know what you're going to say. You're going to ask me if I've lost my mind, whether I'm in my senses, what the hell I think I'm doing, where I am, when I plan to return, yadda yadda yadda. Here, on this small scrap of cheap stationery, you'll get all your answers and more._

_ I'm leaving. Not just __London__, but this wedding, this relationship. It's terribly selfish of me to do this with hardly a month left, but I'm sorry, all of you. I just can't take it any more. _

_ Angel, you are perfect; you're smart, successful, kind, loving, caring, handsome- everything a girl wants and more. But I'm not. I'm not perfect, Angel, I'm still evolving. You were surprised, shocked even, when we met again on the beach two years back at how I'd changed since high school. You weren't exactly pleased by it, I know. But I'm still going to change. I'm going to turn into something else, something you may not like, and then what happens? Do we walk away again? I'm not going to be able to go through that pain, not for a second time, with you. When I marry, I need to know it's going to be forever, till death do us part. I can't feel that with you, at least not right now._

_ I've never had much patience. But I need patience, because I'm cookie dough. And, I'm not done baking yet. I don't know when I'll be done, I don't know whether you'll wait for me. I shouldn't decide for you, but you've done it for me all my life, so just this once, I'm taking charge: don't wait for me, Angel. For this way lies endless pain. For us both. You don't deserve half-done cookies, Angel. You deserve more, more than me._

_ I have no idea where I'm going. _ _Not__D.C.__, not _ _L.A.__ Too much of us there for me to feel okay.__ I'm not estranging you from my life; I need time before I can face the guilt when I see you again. Please don't look for me, and if somehow you do find me, leave me alone till I am alright again. This goes for you too, Anya and Xan. _

_All my love,_

_Buffy_

* * *

"Think I'm okay enough to travel?"

"Depends on where you want to go."

A snort. "Well, duh. I'm not going to go to Manila, now, am I?"

"With you, who knows?"

"I'll choose to ignore that quip. I want to head back to L.A."

"Wait a few days."

"I would, but seats are a problem."

"Have you booked?"

"No, but it looks to me as though more than half of your city feels like heading to mine to make it a mess of noisy, intolerant, loud and obnoxious tourists."

"Need I remind you you nearly defined yourself, back there?"

"Ha ha, very funny, look how I hold my stomach and laugh. Now, tell me; should I go?"

"Since when does anything I say stop you from doing what you want?"

"Since when does it stop you from giving me advice?"

"If it's so unwanted, why ask for it now?"

"Since when did you start arguing?"

"Since when did you start taking notice?"

"Since when do I not?"

"When will you come out of your denial?"

"I'm not in denial!"

Tara grinned. "Finally. I thought we'd just sit here firing questions and never get around to talking."

Buffy fumed. "I was having fun," she muttered, throwing down the_ Times _and sipping her coffee. "Always ruin my fun, why don't you."

"Aw, come on. Let's get back on track. You want to go back to L.A. . .?"

"Yeah, and it's hard to get tickets. Why do people find California synonymous with the summer?"

"The beaches, that's why. What tickets are available?"

"Um, the day after, or its two weeks form yesterday."

"Oh."

"Mm hmm. See why I can't wait, now?"

"Yeah, I do. Anyhow, you don't have fever anymore so I guess its okay. I was asking you to wait because I have a seminar in L.A. in a week or so, but my ticket's already booked. Can't really ask you to wait; won't be fair on a globetrotter like you."

Buffy smiled, "You're coming to L.A.?"

"Yeah, but only for two weeks or so, most of which will be spent at the seminar."

"Doesn't matter. Anya and Xander planned to tour Europe before the wedding; I don't think they're going to rush back now. No hurry, after all. It might get a bit lonely at home; I'd like it if you stayed with me."

"I'd have stayed there anyway." When Buffy grinned, Tara continued, shifting up her paper to hide her face, "Where else can you get free accommodations and food, after all?"

When she peeked over the top edge of the newspaper, a small cushion hit her squarely in the face. Tara burst out laughing. She met Buffy's jade eyes, and the smaller blonde stuck out her tongue.

"Meanie."

* * *

"Dan used to bring me here." Willow's words broke the comfortable silence between her and Will. "We loved walking this way . . ." She motioned at their bare feet with the arm that wasn't linked with one of his.

His throat tightened a bit at the mention of this Dan person, but he pushed it aside. "Are you saying you always ate so much that you had to take a walk afterwards?" He teased lightly.

She grinned. "Always."

Will let out a bark of laughter, then retreated into his thoughts. One arm linked with her delicate one, the other holding their shoes, he answered all her questions as he pondered his own. The girl hadn't replied to any of his advances that evening. All his sexual innuendo, eyebrow raises and scorching looks over her body seemed wasted. All she could do was blather on and on about tourism, economy, her job at the University and some upcoming conference. Hardly date-topics. In fact, she seemed to warm up to him easily, but not in the way he expected. In fact . . .

"So, what happened with Dan?" The words burst form him before he could control them. His eyes widened, knowing he was in for it now; he'd broken the decrees of social conduct during courtship . . .

Willow just shrugged, hardly looking uncomfortable. "She wasn't at ease in her own skin, I guess. Always tense and uptight, always feeling someone was judging her. Dan was very insecure."

Will nodded thoughtfully. "I see . . ." While actually he did not. At ease? Tense and uptight? What for?

"Maybe because she'd just come out, but I never understand why some people are so ashamed of themselves. I mean, come on! They should understand themselves and take pride in their sexuality. The Gay Pride parade isn't that useless; I told Dan she should listen. _We're here, we're queer; get over it!_ She should embrace herself first, only then . . ."

Will's eyes had widened when she started speaking, her words snapping him to attention. Now it looked as though they would burst right out of their sockets. He swallowed through this suddenly dry throat and managed to wheeze out, "H-hold on. Dan . . . D-dan's a girl!"

Willow nodded, oblivious to his shock. "Yeah. Danielle. Calls herself Dan, as though that'll make her normal. I tell you, I've had some of the weirdest girlfriends and . . . hey, Will, you dropped the shoes. Hey, are you okay?"


	5. Illuminated

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

****

**_4. Illuminated_**

****

Sleep had become a stranger to Angel ever since he'd met Cordelia. Her flashing opaque eyes and long tresses kept his eyes open, his mind comparing them mentally with flowing golden hair and light eyes that changed color whenever he dared search for sleep. Eventually, he had come to terms with himself; he treated himself to Cordelia during the day and his head let him sleep, albeit fitfully, at night.

Tonight, though, was a different issue. Entwined in the arms of the brunette who had easily embraced him, he dreamt of Buffy. He dreamt of her laughing eyes as she dashed down the beach, her agile limbs easily outrunning him. It was her golden hair that flowed like silk through his fingers, her skin that gleamed like gold in the afternoon sun.

But when he woke up in cold sweat, it was in Cordelia's arms.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper, her hands light on his shoulders. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost." The concern in her voice stirred him from his thoughts.

Guilt flooded Angel's entire being. A darting glance at the glowing bedside clock told him what day, what time it was. In the ungodly hour of 2 AM, he said to Cordelia, "I wish I had." Cradling his face in his hands, he repeated, in a whisper, "I wish I had."

* * *

Willow went back to work the next day and Will was left with a newly broken heart, humiliated pride and the memories of an embarrassing evening.

At eleven in the morning, he set about to cleaning up the house, ignoring the hangover he'd given himself after getting home long after midnight. He could've sworn, however, that his godmother had given him till 11:20 PM only, because everything after that had been a disaster.

He dusted the shelves in the dining room, reddened eyes staring at the crystal figurines as though they could tell him why, after pulling up in front of the house last night, he'd said, "So, it wasn't a date, then?"

As he vacuumed the carpeted floor, the whirring of the motor answered him in Willow's breathless voice, "Oh, Will, I' so sorry! I'm just so used to Oz taking me out to dinner I didn't even think you, as a guy, would be interested in me. . ."

The sounds of the dishes clunking in the sink as he washed up the week's pile made him flinch. Flinch in embarrassment, of course, because he just _had_ to say, demandingly (!), "Oz? Who's Oz?"

The huge garbage truck coming down the street reminded him to rush to put out the trash. Oh, it also reminded him of her easy answer. "Oz is my best friend, Will."

When he finally collapsed into an armchair, Pontiac in his arms, he closed his eyes tiredly. His mind, however, was not done. "Oh, okay, then. Goodnight."

Willow had smiled, (pityingly, he thought, slightly bitter), and leaned over to give him a hug. Not even a short one, a good, long friendly one. She'd pulled apart and said, "I'm sorry, Will. I'm working tomorrow but once I'm done I'll be right over, okay? We can stay in and watch some movies, if you want." And with a flutter of her silvery shawl, a whiff of her rose perfume, she was gone.

A flick of his wrist and the TV in the living room was blaring. He flipped channels until he found something he was looking for. He smiled, and decided to watch the movie, glad he'd noticed its name in the TV listing.

"Women," he asked Pontiac, holding the cat up, "Who needs them!"

Pontiac, however, fell asleep halfway through Will's celebration of male independence. And when _Gone with the Wind _was ending, nobody heard Will say, perfectly in time with Rhett, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!"

* * *

Just before take-off, Buffy switched on her laptop for the first time in weeks and decided to check her mail. The stewardess gave her a good glare, to which Buffy could only reply with a cheeky grin. As passengers all around her took their time in getting in and cribbing about their seats, Buffy was glad she had a window seat. Whenever she got an aisle, or middle, seat, it was like a rule that she'd also get the passengers who just had to use the bathroom every half an hour.

Signing into her email account, her eyes widened as she noticed the long list of mails. At second glance, she saw most were from Anya. She was either asking Buffy where things were when the latter had left for London, or she was giving her a play-by-play record of her own trip, or she was asking her where the hell she was. A few were from Xander, some from work, and two or three from Dawn. However, the one that caught her eye was one from Angel.

Clicking it open, she saw it had been sent just few days ago. She wondered why he was mailing her; hadn't he read the note she'd left at the hotel? Frowning, she read through it rapidly.

Phrases jumped out at her. 'Haven't replied to my voicemail', and, 'I'm having no fun in Rome without you'. There was, 'Sorry, we might have to delay the wedding; I've a lot of work here' and 'it was wrong of me to leave like that'. But what surprised her most was: 'I hope you're doing well in London; miss you and love you'.

When she was done, she went back to her inbox and clicked on the one Anya had sent, titled: Where in hell are you guys! Her frown deepened, and she clicked 'Back' on the small screen but didn't open up any other mails.

Apparently, Angel hadn't gone back to London a week after she'd left. He'd stayed back in Rome, and to explain himself, he had left a voicemail on her cell phone which she hadn't received. Xander and Anya had gotten hold of her note, she guessed. Odd.

She went back to her laptop and opened Anya's latest mail. It said they were tired of waiting at the hotel for her or Angel to show up and were leaving for France. The one before asked her to come back. An earlier one told her they had arrived in London. Going back to the inbox, Buffy opened the email which told her, from the date, that Anya had sent her this one just before she left L.A.

The lighting in the plane was adequate, but the rack for handbags above her head gave her restricted light. The window was no help; New York's grey weather hadn't given up. Buffy rubbed her tired eyes and thanked the laptop for its inbuilt light. Lit up by its glow, she read Anya's typed up letter and even in words, she could tell the other blonde was beating round the bush about something. But about what?

The mail ended with Anya typing, formally, 'Yours, Anya'. Rolling her eyes, Buffy closed the window and put away the laptop, succumbing to the airhostess's glares.

If Buffy had enough patience and had scrolled down the mail a little more, she'd have read, in the smallest font possible, that there was a guy living in the house she was heading to in L.A.

* * *

When Will woke up that morning, his back hurt. He realized, soon, why: he was sleeping upside down on the stairs, the cat still in his arms. He dimly remembered trying to drag himself to open the door when Willow had rung the bell last night, then giving up and falling asleep right there.

He refused to open his eyes, but Pontiac was hissing and struggling against his arms. Grumbling, Will let the cat go and promptly, his legs slipped down the stairs they were inclined against. As he lay stretched out against the bottom step, Will caught a whiff of jasmine, mixed with a hint of clove.

He opened his eyes. And there, in front of the open door, lit up by the early morning light, stood a goddess, gently petting Pontiac.


	6. Don't Stand So Close To Me

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: This chapter was really hard for me to write. Let me know what you think. Thanks in bunches to everyone who reviewed the past chapters!_

**_5. Don't Stand So Close to Me_**

****

What do you do when you come home to find a drunken man sleeping, _upside down, _on your stairs?

Option A: You drop your bags, scream, call the cops, and then faint.

Option B: You drop your bags on the drunk, and then rush to the resident macho man.

Option C: You drop your bags, beat him into consciousness and drag him out of the house to leave him on the sunlit road.

Buffy contemplated all these options when she unlocked her front door and jumped about five feet into the air. When she'd calmed a bit, she stood there, back against the doorframe, regarding the sleeping man and thinking of what she should do.

Option A seemed a wee bit histrionic; she wasn't some delicate lady from the Victorian age that she should faint, after all.

Option B might've been possible but for the fact she knew no macho men. The only one she'd seen, lately, was the driver of the cab that had just dropped her off. However, her talking a mile a minute at 5 in the morning had been a bit too much for him. He hadn't even helped her with her bags; just rushed off, his engine in full throttle, to get away from the crazy blonde.

Conversely, though, she thought as she twirled a curly strand of golden hair between her fingers, Option C was easy and it also seemed oh so . . . tempting.

* * *

She wore a tight blouse of white that went halfway down her thigh, showing off not only her perfect curves but also her lightly tanned skin. Plain blue jeans and platform sandals to go perfectly with them. Hair, poker-straight, that went way below her shoulders. She looked amazing, but Xander was unimpressed.

"Yawn, yawn, yawn," He said, rolling his eyes as Anya paraded in front of him. "Way American, way touristy. Can't you try anything new?"

Anya scowled. "Honestly, Xander, I've tried on three outfits and you still aren't happy! Why don't you pick something yourself, hmm? Save both of us a lot of time, you will!"

Xander sighed patronizingly and got off the bed. Taking a hold of her slim shoulders, he said, "Ahn, we're in Paris, France! Fashion capital of the world! Do you really want people to snigger behind your back everywhere you go? Come on, Anya," He spoke encouragingly, like a coach giving a pep talk. "You've got such an amazing body," she rolled her eyes, "anything you put on looks good, but right now, you need something else. Something that'll catch eyes, something like . . ." he reached behind his back, where the vanity was, and without looking opened a drawer. He pulled out a bag and said, ". . . this."

Anya took the bag from him curiously and looked into it. When she saw what it was, she laughed and whacked him on the head with it.

"How much did you waste on this?" She demanded, as he wound a hand around her waist and led her out of the hotel room.

"Oh, not much," he replied. The door closed on a bunny suit, complete with fluffy ears and a tail. "The guy practically gave it to me for free."

* * *

She wasn't dressed like a goddess, though. She wore plain jeans teamed with a light green peasant top. Nevertheless, it was her face that caught his attention.

Wide eyes that seemed to jump from green to brown to almost red every second. Full lips that looked as though they'd be extremely soft to touch. Tendrils of wavy golden hair escaped her ponytail to frame her face. The morning light enveloped her like a halo.

However, this once, Will decided he wouldn't be fooled by anyone's looks. So, ignoring his suddenly dry throat, he sat up and regarded her. The cat was licking her nose as she bent to look at it. _Darn cat,_ he thought. _Purr louder, I don't think _ _China heard._

"'ello, pet. Needed something?" She looked up. As their eyes met, a wave of . . . _something_ seemed to pass between them. He quickly looked away. Anything to get away from those eyes. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing the soft spot where he'd hit the floor.

She arched a perfectly curved eyebrow. "Well, actually," she said, venturing in, Pontiac nestled in the crook of her left arm. "I do."

"Really, now?" Well, this was odd. The chit seemed to think she could wander in as though she owned the place and . . . hey, how had she got the door to open, anyway? "What is it tha' you need, luv?"

She bent as she approached him, dropping the cat onto the floor and coming to a stop in front of him. Her presence seemed to send his mind into a tumble; he couldn't think straight. So, he didn't notice that the hand she raised as she said, "You, to clear out of my house" had a tennis racket in it.

Of course, when said racket hit the soft spot he'd just been rubbing, he noticed. As he tried to get his vision back, she added, as an afterthought, "Oh, and to stop calling me names."

* * *

Buffy gave him a minute to recover, then raised the racket again. Both his hands were on his head, so she didn't worry about them.

What she hadn't counted on was his leg. His leg, and the way it knocked her off her feet with a single sweep. What amazed her even more was that instead of falling backwards, like gravity dictated, she fell forwards, right on top of her black-clad intruder.

He caught her by her upper arms before she could bang her head on the banister. Buffy swallowed, and looked down. His eyes caught hers, and didn't let go. The tennis racket crashed into a glass framed painting, but even through the sound of breaking glass, their eyes remained locked.

That was how Willow found the two blondes a few minutes later, as she jumped over Buffy's luggage in her green bathrobe. Laid out at the bottom of the stairs, gazing into each other's eyes, a hissing cat and broken glass all around them.


	7. A New Age Goldilocks

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: Feedback. Let me know what you think._

**_6. A New-Age Goldilocks_**

Willow cleared her throat, once. Willow cleared her throat, twice. The third time, Willow resorted to coughing, really loud, and then grinned as the two blondes sprung apart.

Will let go of Buffy's arms, and she fell on top of him, hitting her forehead on his chin. Both cried out in pain and disentangled themselves from one another as Willow tsked. "Oh, my, that's _got_ to hurt." As Buffy sat up on the stairs, glaring hard, Will made an attempt to get off, and move to where Willow was. "Nuh-uh, Will, say where you are. Broken glass all around." And she rushed into the kitchen to get a pan and broom.

Deciding not to risk her new mules, Buffy yelled out to Willow from the stairs, "I thought I asked you to keep an eye on my house!"

Willow's responding yell was muffled when it reached her. It sounded like, "Bugh fi dfid!"

"Yeah? Well, then, why did I come home to find this . . . _guy_ sleeping on the stairs with my cat!"

Will couldn't take this. How dare she talk as though he wasn't in the room? "Hey! D'you doubt my bein' a guy!"

"Willow! Come here, he's talking!"

Oh, for god's sake," Willow grumbled as she entered the foyer again. "Of course he's talking, Buffy; he's a man, and an extremely talkative one at that. Now, you're wearing shoes, so come and help me clear up this mess! Quit acting prissy."

Crossly, Buffy came down from the stairs, ignoring the bottle blond behind her. She gingerly picked up the bigger pieces of the glass as Willow swept up the smaller ones. Pontiac, meanwhile, jumped delicately over Buffy's bent back and into Will's arms.

Straightening up, Buffy glared at the striped cat. "Traitor," she said, her eyes narrowed. Will stopped in his petting the cat and opened his mouth to say something, but Willow interrupted him.

Leaning against the broom, she said, "Okay, Buffy, you can stop overreacting now." Buffy whirled to face her friend, but shaking her head, Willow continued, "_You_ left the cat for two weeks. _He's_ been taking care of him for two weeks. You tell me, he may miss you, but he does have to punish you for abandoning him, now doesn't he?" Then, as though she's just realized something, she cocked her head inquisitively, and said, "By the way, what're you doing back so early?" Eyes narrowing, she asked her, "You haven't murdered the guy have you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Quit it," she said, "and tell me what's going on."

"Simple." Willow picked up the broom, and motioned it toward Will. "Buffy, meet William Giles: your house sitter. Will, Buffy Summers, owner of this house." Sighing, she started sweeping again and said, just loudly enough, "Now let's see who clears out first."

* * *

Half an hour later found them sitting silently on the dining table, sipping hot coffee. Well, at least two of them were. Buffy was inspecting the shelves for dust, dirt or any kind of grime she could attack Will with. She even bent low, searching the carpet for stains, giving the two on the table a good view of her tanned back. When she got up, she seemed reluctant, almost, to say, "Well, I must say, the house is cleaner than it's been for months." She cocked her head at the two on the table and said, "You two seem to get along amazingly." It was a statement, with the merest hint of a question in it.

As Buffy slipped into her seat, Willow quipped, "Yeah, well. You know my rule with cute guys. If you can't have

'em . . ."

"Rope 'em in anyway," Buffy finished. The two girls broke into giggles and Will rolled his eyes.

When the chuckles subsided, Will ventured, "So, Bitsy, ' thought you're in London, gettin' hitched. Wha' went wrong?"

Buffy scowled. With a glance upwards for help, Willow intervened, in what seemed like the thousandth time, "Will, need I remind you of Spike? Get it right: it's _Buffy. _Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Will colored, and said, "Righ', then. Buffy. Same question."

"Same answer," she said and gave him a one-fingered rude gesture.

Willow whacked her own head with her hand and, as Will's eyes narrowed, broke in, "Actually, Buff, I was wondering too. I though you'd be back, what, midway next month?"

Buffy cringed inwardly. She wanted to share it with Willow, but not in front of . . . "It's nothing, really. Angel has to stay in Rome for an extra while, and Anya and Xan couldn't put off their tour. I wasn't in the mood to go, so I decided to come back for a while."

Willow nodded, but seemed reluctant. She could tell Buffy was hiding something.

An awkward silence fell on the three. Then, quietly, Will offered, "So the wedding . . ."

". . . is on indefinite hiatus." Buffy's tone was the slightest bit apologetic. She caught Will's eyes and, for a second, was amazed at the deep, clear color of the blue she saw. Her eyes softened, and that was enough of an apology for Will.

"Sorry 'bout that." He said, in the same quiet tone as though if he spoke loudly, he might stir her temper again.

She shrugged a slim shoulder. The thin cotton of her blouse moved over the golden skin, exposing her collarbone. Will swallowed, and put all his attention to her words. "Nothing you can do about it." She looked into her coffee as though it held answers to all her questions. Upon the brown liquid's refusal to satisfy her, Buffy turned back to Will and said, "So, what did you and Anya agree on?

He blinked. "Sorry, but . . . what?"

"How much? How much would she have paid you when she returned?" Buffy fought to suppress an eye roll.

Will looked at Willow, surprised. He didn't know what to say. Willow bit her lip, then said, "Well, actually, Anya told me he's a friend who. . ."

At the same time, Will said, "How much are you willin' to shell out?"

Buffy blinked. "I'm sorry," she said, with a shaky laugh, "But I didn't understand a word you both just said, so if you can . . ."

"He's a friend who needs a place to stay."

"How much are you willin' to give me?"

Again, they spoke simultaneously. Again, Buffy blinked. Willow and Will glared at each other. Buffy looked on as they seemed to communicate with their eyes, locking in a contest to see who'd blink first. Suddenly, Willow turned towards Buffy and said, "He's a college friend of Anya's who needs a place to stay. Anya said he can stay here for a while, at least till she gets back."

Buffy was having a hard time processing this. She stayed silent for a while, then perked up. "I don't have to pay him?" She asked, eagerly.

As Will rolled his eyes in this display of miserliness, Willow said, "No . . . but you do have to let him stay with you."

For a moment, Buffy comprehended the meaning of Willow's words. Then she said, "No freaking way."

"WHAT!"

"You heard me. No freaking way."

* * *

Angel tried Buffy's number, but all he got was a busy signal. With a sigh and a glace towards the bathroom door, behind which Cordy was bathing, he booted up his laptop and signed into his account.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

* * *

"Why?"

In all honesty, Buffy didn't know why she was saying why. She did, however, come up with good reasons. An artist's mind isn't just creative on the canvas.

"I don't know you, Will. I mean, I can't really live with strangers, now can I? And don't you think Anya should have asked, nay, _told_ me you were going to stay here? I mean, apart from the Jack Daniels and my wine and champagne and chocolate being gone, you've done a fantastic job with the house and kept Mr. Pointy so amazingly well, but I don't know you. I can't—"

"Who's Mr. Pointy?"

"The cat, of course," She said, surprised he'd ask such a question while she was saying: "So, I _do_ understand your problem, but honestly, I can't help you with it. I mean, I don't know whether you can identify with my hitch, but you do understand what I'm trying to say, right?" She rubbed her eyes. Startlingly, the coffee had made her sleepy.

"Why Mr. Pointy?"

"Oh, for Lord's sake!" Buffy burst out, her thinning patience disappearing. "You try calling a cat Pontiac! And have you seen his teeth? What about his claws, eh? Your hand seems familiar with them!"

Will rolled his eyes. "Gosh, pet, now isn't the time to talk about cats. I'm telling you, I'm only waiting for my things to arrive in San Francisco so I can get 'em here to L.A. and shift them—"

Unbelievable. This man was unbelievable . . . "Shift them where? Have you found an apartment?"

Will shrugged his black-clad shoulders. Willow's eyes volleyed back and forth between the two blondes, and she said, "I could've let him stay with me, but you know- renovation. I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room myself."

Buffy nodded, a hand over her closed, tired eyes. She mumbled something, which made Will sigh. He said, "Look, pet, if it bothers you so much, I'll get a motel or something. Really. Don't worry about it."

Buffy's mumble was a little louder, but still unintelligible. Willow, deciding she'd had quite enough of this, said, "Damn it, Buffy, I'm telling you, he's a good guy!"

"Aw, Red, let it be."

"No way, Will. She doesn't even know you; how can she judge you that way! It's so—"

"I said 'okay'."

Both, Will and Willow, looked confused for a second, then looked down at the tired, sleepy blonde who was ready to go to sleep on the dining table any moment. Arguing, apparently, wore her out. Buffy repeated, eyes still closed, "I said, fine. He can stay."

As Willow let out an excited yelp and hugged Will, Buffy mumbled, so quietly nobody heard, just before she slipped into la-la-land, "Plus, he's probably gay, so not like it matters.


	8. Sights and Sounds

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: After this chapter, I'm going to try to keep Angel, Xander and Anya out for a bit. Can you guys live with that? Tell me! _

**_7. Sights and Sounds_**

****

The sun had already begun its descent form the sky when Buffy woke up. She frowned as she realized she was in her own room, and wondered how she'd got there. Lying in bed for a while, she squinted in the darkness that came from drawing the curtains then decided she was hungry. Rolling out of bed, she wobbled for a moment on her feet then stepped out of her room.

The hallway's brightness hurt her eyes and she shut them for a moment. Unfortunately, a moment was all it took to crash into Will, who was just leaving the guest room.

"Whoa, there, tiger," he said, holding her up so she wouldn't fall. "Watch where you're going, luv."

Buffy frowned, and pulled away from him. Blinking in the brightness, she asked him, grumbling, "Must you always crash into me so?"

"As far as I can recall, it's you, pet, who's done the crashing bit so far. You've been the crasher; I'm merely the crash_ee_."

She rolled her eyes, and with a final, "oh, shut up," ambled down the stairs.

Will grinned after her, then reached out to close the door to her room. Looked like living in L.A. was going to be fun . . .

* * *

"So, let me get this straight: you opened my purse. You took out the keys to my room. You carried me upstairs. You unlocked and entered my room. You put me on my bed and drew the curtains. You took off my shoes. Am I right so far?"

Will grinned. "Yeah, luv. You are."

Absently, she rubbed her forehead and said, "I asked you not to call me names."

"You also asked me to get out. An', if I haven' done that, why should I listen to your other demand?"

She snorted. Then, as though coming out of a daze, Buffy said, "All right. Now, if you're going to live here, we're going to need some rules."

Will nodded solemnly, straightening up in his chair.

"Now, the first is—"

"—not to call you names?"

She looked at him. _ Probably wondering where I come from, _he thought, a sly grin spreading over his lips. _Women tend to think of that . . ._

"Well, yes, that too, but I was thinking more along the lines of no entering my room."

"Sound like a disgruntled teen talkin' to her parents."

"Shush. Now, secondly, I will—"

"—buy me all the beer I want?" He stretched out, grabbing a can of said beverage from the open fridge, and taking a gulp. She noticed the way his lean arms stretched, and swallowed.

However, she waged on, "No, I will . . . um, I'll . . . oh, god. Great. I've forgotten what I'll do."

"Thinking of my hot body, ducks?" He winked at her playfully.

Her dry throat, suddenly, loosened up, as she remembered an important fact about him. A spurt of laughter escaped her, and she said, in between giggles, "Not likely." And she pushed her head against the fridge to keep her amusement in check.

Over at the stove, Will rolled his eyes. "You just wait, luv," He said, adding garlic to the sauce he was making. "I'll have you worshipping at the altar of my body soon enough."

As she burst into laughs again, Will's cell phone rang out. As the polyphonic sounds of the Macarena filled the kitchen, Buffy's laughter increased by quite a few decibels. Reddening, Will put the flame on low and, shooting filthy looks at the blonde who was now crying with mirth, he stepped out of the room.

A thumb to a button killed the source of Buffy's fun. Will spoke into his phone, "Hello?"

* * *

Rupert Giles' desk was a mess. When he entered his study late one night, he moaned at the sight of it. How was it, he couldn't help thinking, that a senior partner, heck, co-owner, even, of a major firm had to clean up his own desk?

"Incompetent secretaries," he muttered, stacking files and putting pens and pencils into their place at the pencil stand. "Should fire the entire bloody lot of them . . ."

It was about then that his phone pierced the air with its high pitched ringing. Giles jumped into the air, then, as he realized it was the phone, calmed down. His calm, however, lasted barely a second. After all, now he had to hunt for the phone . . .

Cushions went flying as Giles looked all through his study for the cordless phone. He finally found it under his chair, but the ringing stopped. Uttering curses that would turn his own son red, Giles dropped the offending object back onto the carpeted floor and turned back to his cleaning.

That was when the phone rang again.

Grabbing it from the floor, he barked into it, "Hello?"

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. Then, a timid voice said, "Um, Giles? That you?"

"No, it's the bloody Queen. Of course it's me," he said crossly. "Who is _this_?"

"Liam."

Instantly, Giles calmed down. "Oh, Liam. Great. Wonderful to hear from you. Everything all right? Are you in London, yet?"

"No, Giles," Liam was speaking with caution, knowing one wrong word would set his uncle off. "In Rome, actually."

"Oh. I see. Did you need something, then, Liam? Because I'm rather busy at the moment . . ."

"Well, yes, actually. I needed Will's number. He changes it so often, I never seem to have the correct one."

In his study, Giles stiffened. "Will," he said to his nephew, "Is a piece of useless flesh. I'd rather you didn't spend too much time with him, or you, too, will become the utterly lazy, no good dog he is . . ."

Liam laughed. "There's a lot of truth in what you're saying, Giles, but I do need his number. Can I have it?"

"Of course," Giles said dryly. "It's your funeral to be in contact with him, not mine . . . do you have some paper with you?"

* * *

"Hello?"

Relief flooded Angel at the sound of his cousin's accented voice. "Will? Is that you?"

"No, it's the bloody Queen. Like hell it's me. Who's this?"

Amusement filled Angel at the likeness of father and son. "Liam. Will, I need—"

"Oh, yes. Liam Spencer the great needs something. How may I serve you, king?"

"Well, actually, I heard you were in London, so—"

"Wrong, matey. 'm not in London, or the Isles, at all." Will's drawl seemed to echo in his head.

"Oh." This was quite a change. "Are you in New York, then?"

"Nope."

"Oh . . ." Well, so much for that plan. "Well, then . . . I don't think—"

"I can't help you?" Will brightened. "Great! Buh-bye, now!"

And he hung up.

* * *

"Who was that?" Buffy asked as he reentered the kitchen. She'd calmed down from before and was stirring the sauce. Not just stirring it, told the slight red mark on her cheek.

Coming to a stand beside her so he could evaluate their process, he said, "Nobody," He checked the if the fettuccini was soft enough, then looked at Buffy. Taking the spatula from her, he said, "You've got . . ." He motioned towards her cheek.

She blushed. "Just tasting," she muttered, clearly embarrassed, as she tried wiping it on her shoulder.

"No, let me," he said, and gently batted her hand away. He gently wiped the red sauce from her cheek, then said, "You were spreading it."

Swallowing hard, Buffy nodded. His hands were callused, but yet so soft on her cheek. The strong arms she'd dreamed of during her afternoon nap made her blush. Those arms had distracted her earlier in the evening, too, as they flexed beneath his black tee. _Sad_, she thought, _that there is something wrong with every good guy . . ._

"So, who was it?" She took out the cottage cheese that needed to be diced.

He looked at her, not gently like before, but curious to her curiosity. "Curiosity killed the cat," he said.

"Tell that to Mr. Pointy. Who was it? And what's with the Macarena?"

He stopped stirring, and looked at her. "What's your fiancé doin' in Rome for so long?" His bluntness made her angry, again.

She resumed chopping the cheese. "None of your business," she let out through gritted teeth.

Will nodded. "Same goes for you, pet. Let's make that rule number two." He started stirring again, then paused. "But I can tell you one thing— the Macarena is the only tune your cat doesn' seem to mind."

And, instantly, the tense mood evaporated. Buffy burst into peals of laughter, and the sound seemed to bring a sense of serenity to Will's mind.


	9. Midnight Bonding

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: A bit dark, I guess, but that's how I felt today. What happened between Will and Dru. I thought, let's just get it out and over with. Sorry if the update's taken long; I've discovered Crash Bandicoot, see. Also, thanks for the reviews. I know I've gone a bit overboard with the gay stuff, so I'll try to make up for it, okay? Let me know what you think?_

**_8. Midnight Bonding _**

****

It was hard for Will to get any sleep. Two things: one, the cat had scurried off to its owner, and he missed the smelly thing's weight against his thigh. Two, there was a girl in the next room, beautiful and smart mouthed, who he couldn't touch.

What a waste life was turning out to be.

As he turned this way and that in his bed, a sly voice rose in the back of his mind. _So, then, William. Over Drusilla already?_

Will swallowed. He hadn't thought of Dru for quite a while, now . . .

_Of course. After all, why would you think of your lady when you have two others with you, day and night- oh, wait, not really. One's gay, the other's attached. Oops. Poor Spikey. Maybe you should go back to Dru. You know, get back your wonder years and –_

Yeah, right. The wonder years. Years when he couldn't turn his back for a minute, not ready to accept what was going on behind it. Years when all he wanted was a cuddle by the fireplace after work, but had to go to some party in a dingy apartment where the smell of cocaine and alcohol filed the air. Will had wanted to come home after work to a smiling face, but all he got was Dru passed out on the couch. The hours spent at the ER of St. Vincent's were hardly unforgettable.

The voice didn't have an answer to that.

A shudder racked Will's body, but not because of any inexistent cold. Nobody knew what had passed between him and Drusilla, not even his father. Not anything substantial, at least.

They knew being with Dru was putting him into a depression. They knew she was wrong for him, that she asked for too much. They knew that much, and the rest was what they thought they knew. All lies.

It was true that he loved taking care of the women he loved. He loved caring for them, pampering them and catering to their every fancy. But he hated the things Dru had put him through. Every time she got a little better, he'd let his guard down a little and, perhaps, go out, he'd come back only to take her to the hospital again. It was almost like she liked seeing him miserable, even if it caused her pain. The woman was amazing, he had to admit. Amazing in quite a different way.

San Francisco was supposed to be their new beginning. A fully healed Drusilla and a newly promoted Will had decided to make use of the apartment an old aunt and left her. He begged and fought for a transfer to the San Francisco branch of his father's firm, and eventually had got his way, given his record. Dru left early. He was supposed to follow on a month later. He made it half a month, just to surprise her.

And, oh, what a surprise it was. But the joke was on him, not her. He'd found her in another guy's arms, and fled. Returning later, he asked her for an explanation. She asked him for cash.

He'd left for L.A. that evening.

And now he was here. Trying to sleep, in the house of a blonde, as said blonde snored away at the top of her lungs in the room across the hall while she should've been here with him.

What a waste life was turning out to be.

* * *

Yuck.

That was all Buffy could think as she gingerly nibbled on a piece of melon from the fridge. Her stomach growled as it engulfed the fruit, unsatisfied. Sighing, Buffy looked helplessly at the front parts of the racks where she kept the good stuff, but in its place were veggies and raw chicken and fruits. She leaned forwards on her stool, looking dor something edible. Finding nothing, Buffy looked back at the mostly tasteless green fruit, cut into pieces, on her lap and picked up her fork again.

_Stupid Will, _ she thought, chewing robotically. _Had to finish all my post-midnight snacks and didn't even have the courtesy to get more . . ._

It was as she was thinking this that she felt a cold hand on the bare part of her shoulder where the robe had slipped. She jumped about ten feet into the air, knocking her stool backwards and falling hard on her ass. The plate of fruit spilled as a now-familiar chuckle filled the dimly lit kitchen.

"Hello, cutie," Will said, sauntering forwards and peeking into the fridge himself. When she didn't answer, he looked back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "You okay?"

Buffy glared at him. Her robe was almost gone, and her boxer shorts/sleeveless-tee combo of a night suit was plainly visible to Will. Her long, golden legs that ended in squashy Piglet slippers were entwined at an odd angle as her upper back rested against the counter base. The stool lifted her legs from the floor, and, god, look at those

legs . . .

"Help," she managed to wheeze out, extending an arm and he instantly shot forwards, taking her hand and pulling her up. Her hair, now mostly free of its loose ponytail, tumbled over her face and shoulders. Pushing it out of her eyes, she looked at him critically and said, "What're you doing up?"

Leaning against the counter, he smirked. "Could ask you the same."

She shrugged, and the robe slipped further down her arm. "Couldn't sleep. Decided to eat something but someone," Here she paused to glare at him, "ate all my food and couldn't show enough graciousness to get some more."

"' that so?" He raised his scarred eyebrow, again, and she couldn't help her suddenly dry throat. He grinned. "Actually, luv, 've still got all your food. Just put it in the back so not many people can get to it." And he moved the huge fruit basket to reveal what she'd been looking for.

Buffy dropped back on her knees and leaned into the fridge. "It's all here," she muttered, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Why didn't I look behind . . .? Oh, I _am_ stupid, aren't I?"

"Really want me to answer that, pet?" He bent forwards, pulling out a box of Pop Tarts. He took out two, and handed one to Buffy. "Eat up."

And she did. As the toaster pastry disappeared within a matter of seconds, all Will could do was stare. The only light in the kitchen came from the open fridge, and as Will bit into his own strawberry tart, he motioned towards the refrigerator.

"Plan to keep that door open all night, luv?"

She didn't answer, busy pulling out the second box, too. As she ripped open the paper box, she said, "Nah, just as long as I eat."

Grinning, Will said, "That'll be all night, then."

She glared. She could do that well, and did it a lot. "I'll choose to ignore that comment."

He chuckled, but kept quiet.

A little while later, Buffy said, "This floor is cold."

He patted the stool next to his. "Never stopped you from sitting like the civilized."

She sighed, and putting down the bag of Doritos, stood up. "I've got to clean up the melon mess first." Her voice was distracted, and he guessed she was speaking to herself. Especially the second part: "By god, I think I need a bib sometimes. Now I'll have to bathe . . ."

Will watched her as she washed her hands and then looked about for a sponge to wipe the sticky floor with. Finally, wondering where she got that energy from, he put down his dry cereal and said, "Sit down, luv, I'll do that for you."

From where she bent at the sink, Buffy looked up. "What?" She blinked. "You'll clean up for me? You'd do that?"

There was something disturbing about the way she said it. Something that made him say, "Well, I've moved things a bit, now haven't I? You won't know where everything is."

So Buffy sat and watched Will clean up the melon she had dropped. She idly slapped the odd mosquito that managed to survive her sanitation—oops, _their_ sanitation. When Will finally came and sat next to her, after switching on the dimmest light that now shone above the kitchen island, she felt the need to get up and say, "Hey, let me make you some chocolate."

So now it was Will's turn to watch Buffy putter around, making hot chocolate for the two of them. After bitchiness, indifference and a bit of rudeness form her all day, this was a pleasing change. He smiled as she came back to the table with two steaming cups, and was rewarded with a smile of her own.

As they sat and sipped in fairly companionable silence, Buffy piped up, "So, what's your story?"

He smacked his lips and set down the cup. "Story?" He asked.

"Yeah. As in, why do you not have any place to stay? Why did you have to turn to Anya for help?"

He shrugged. "Moved from New York to San Francisco for a girl, found her with another guy, left the town. Had little money with me, and my dad's really mad at me so he's PNG'd me from all office premises, any branch in any city. As my account is with the firm, I've got limited cash which will be mostly wasted if I check into a hotel."

Buffy blinked at this sudden influx of information. "So," she ventured, "You're a lawyer?"

He nodded. "With Giles & Spencer."

She nodded, familiar with the firm's name. "Wolfram & Hart's greatest rival," she muttered.

Tilting his head, he asked her, surprised, "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Shrugging, she said, bit nervously, "Know a few lawyers."

"I see." He looked at her and then suddenly asked, "So, what do you do, pet? For a living?"

"Me?"

"No, the bloody Queen. Of course you."

"Oh. Well, I . . . run an art gallery," She said, frowning a bit. _Is that all I do?_

"Run? Or own?" Will's probing continued.

"Both. I own more than one, actually, but I run just the Los Angeles branch."

"Oh." Then he frowned. Wasn't her last name . . .? "What're your galleries called?"

"Anne Art Galleries."

His eyebrows went up. Way, way up. "Joyce Summers' galleries? You're 'Lizabeth Summers!"

He frowned, and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Yes. How do you know my mum?"

He shook his head, unbelieving. "'m in corporate law, maybe, but I actually love the creative representatives. Keep in tune with what goes on in the art and music industries. Course I know 'bout your mum and you!"

Buffy blinked. "Wow." She said, a bit shakily. "I didn't know I was famous . . ."

Will rolled his eyes. "Not famous, luv. Well-known. There's a difference."

All she could do was shrug.

Will finished his chocolate with a slurp. Looking at her, he was silent for a while before saying, "So, Bitsy . . ."

"It's Buffy."

"Yeah, that's what I said, Bitsy."

"BUFFY. B-U-F-F-Y!"

"Yeah, Bitsy!"

She sighed. "Why're you irritating me so much?" Her voice was laced with tiredness.

Will shrugged, imitating her. "Well, I thought you wouldn't mind—"

"Wouldn't mind you butchering my name?"

"You butcher it enough, luv. 'Lizabeth is such a beautiful name. Why do you hide behind Buffy?"

She blinked. "You think Elizabeth is good?" She sounded amazed.

He nodded. "Yeah, it's beautiful. Bit ol' fashioned, perhaps, but beautiful."

Buffy swallowed. "Oh."

Will nodded, fighting to hide his grin. "Yes," he said. "Oh." Swirling the remains of his chocolate, he continued, "So, it's your choice, pet. Pick. I'll either call you Bitsy, or—"

"Elizabeth is fine." Her tone was curt, and she didn't quite look at him when she said that.

He grinned, not bothering to hide it now. "Better than fine, luv. 'Lizabeth is beautiful."

_A/N: Do you guys think I need a beta?_


	10. True Male Machsimo And a Little Spying

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: Tired. V. tired. Forgive any mistakes?_

**_9. True Male Machismo (And a Little Spying)_**

****

Will woke late the next day because of his nighttime chat with Buffy. Rolling out of bed, he stretched and looked out the open window. It looked like it was eleven, so after a quick stop at the bathroom to rid himself of bad breath, he made his way downstairs.

Ambling into the living room, Will looked around, scratching his head and wondering where she could be. Then he heard quiet noises from the kitchen, so he moved towards it. At the doorway of the room, he stopped.

Buffy sat in a chair at the table with her back to him, Pontiac on her lap and a scrap of paper on the wood before her. One hand pressed the phone against her ear while the other, clenched in a fist that held a pen, supported her forehead. Her back shook lightly, in time with soft sniffles she was letting out.

Concerned, Will made a move forwards but she spoke up. "No, don't, it's alright."

He frowned, and looked about the room. Had she just spoken to him?

Before he could voice his question, she spoke up again. "I'm okay, Tara, really. Don't worry." A pause, then, "Fine."

Oh. She was on the phone.

Thinking he should give her some privacy, he quietly started backing away but his curiosity got the better of him. He stayed, leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen. _ Come on, pet,_ he encouraged her mentally, _speak up, now._

* * *

"Honestly, Buffy, do you expect me to let it go so easily?" Tara fumbled with the latch on her suitcase as she held the phone with one hand. "Damned case," She mumbled, trying to lock it and failing. "Oh, Buffy, can you hold on a moment?"

"Fine."

The sullenness in her friend's voice made Tara smile. She put down the phone, quickly shut her case, and picked it up again. "You still on?"

"Where'd I go?" She sniffed.

"Yeah, so tell me: why do you think you woke up to find yourself crying about Angel?"

"God, Tara, I called you so you can help me straighten out, not confuse me further!"

"Look, Buffy, unless you know what the problem is, how can you fix it?"

Miles away, Buffy sighed. "You're right (as always)," She said, muttering the last part inaudibly. But Tara picked it up.

"Yes, I'm always right. Now, speak away." Getting comfortable in an old armchair, Tara glanced at the clock to make sure she had enough time.

"Fine." A bit of silence, then Buffy said, "Well, I guess I'm feeling guilty, leaving things that way. I mean, as far as I know, he doesn't even know what I've done."

Tara nodded, supporting, then realized Buffy couldn't see her. "Yeah, go on."

"Perhaps the fact that he's still thinking that he's . . . oh, what am I thinking . . .?"

"Perhaps he thinks he still has to be loyal to you while you're moving on—" Tara froze in mid-sentence, eyes narrowing in the dim light of her apartment. "Buffy, have you met someone? Are you thinking of going out? Need I remind you you've just broken—"

"No! No, no, of course not," Buffy's voice, however, was laced with a tinge of guilt. "No, there has been no . . . _moving _anywhere, actually, just wondering if I did the right thing there . . ."

"Oh." Tara was silent, then said, "Well, I'm sorry, that wasn't very therapist of me. I'm not supposed to give you my own feelings, see. I'm supposed to be neutral. But the friend in me, I guess, kicked out . . ."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Both blondes were silent, then Buffy asked quietly, through her blocked nose, "So, should I go back?"

"I don't know."

Buffy sighed. "I need a friend, Tara, not a therapist." Eying her bare ring finger, she continued, "Tell me."

In New York, Tara massaged her temples with her free hand. "Okay," she sighed, "it comes down to this: do you think, even if you go back and convince Anya and Xander—no, sorry, Anya—convince Anya to shut up about it, will it work out between the two of you?"

That was easy. "No."

"Why?"

"Because of the doubt."

"Good. So, shouldn't you stay put at home in bed with chicken soup till I arrive instead of worrying about these little things?"

Buffy laughed through her dry-from-crying throat, but it was a humorless laugh. "Little. Yeah right. I think there's something wrong with this new cell phone, because it isn't receiving any calls, so I don't know if he's called me. The planner has called Anya, like, eight times and Anya's mailing me all sort of weird stuff asking me about the invitations. Little, Tara? This was my wedding! It isn't little, believe me."

"Was." Upon Buffy's silence, she elaborated. "Was your wedding."

Buffy was still silent for a while, then she said, "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she asked, "Yeah, so when do you arrive?"

"Don't come to pick me up if you're sick."

"Not sick. At least, not really. A bit of a headache, but nothing Aspirin can't cure."

"Have you taken your temperature?" When Buffy mumbled an answer, Tara repeated, louder, "I said, have you taken your temperature?"

"No, MOM, I haven't taken my temperature because I know I do not have fever."

"You're a lousy nurse, Buff. Take it once you've put the phone down."

"Tara—"

"Take it."

"Fine," Buffy said, frowning with irritation. "Now tell me your flight and stuff, Tara."

"Fine. Note it down."

"I've got a pen with me, so shoot." After a few moments of scribbling, Buffy said, "Great. Oh, and Tara?"

"Hm?"

"You're going to have to sleep in Anya's room."

Tara's nose wrinkled. "Why? Because I asked you to take your temperature!"

"Nooo," Buffy's voice was as patronizing as it could be through a runny nose. "Because I've got another guest."

"Really? Who?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out, Tara. Bye, and have a safe trip.

"But—" Tara started to say but was cut off by a _click_.

* * *

Buffy had been staring at her writing on the small bit of paper in front of her when Will decided to stroll in. She started as he plonked himself on the chair next to her, shaken from her thoughts.

"Do you have to scare me like that?" Her tone was only mildly annoyed.

He shrugged, picking up the paper. "'s fun," he offered. Looking interestedly at the paper, he asked, "What's this?"

Buffy couldn't see the trivial amount of panic behind his casualness. "A friend. She'll be attending a seminar so she needs a place to stay."

He nodded thoughtfully and eyed her, noticing her red eyes and nose, the hastily wiped tear tracks smearing her make up a little. When she looked at him, he said, "Seminar?"

Her gaze turned to one of amusement, and she said, "Yes. Seminar. Conference, meeting, convention, forum. Any of those words familiar to you?" She poured him a clean glass of orange juice from the carton on the table as she teased him.

Will snorted, and accepted the glass. Finishing it in one go, he brought the glass down on the table as though to slam it. But then he saw her face and, thinking better of it, set it quietly onto the wood.

Buffy rolled her eyes and got up. She walked to the fridge and bent, pretending to look for something while she wiped her eyes subtly. However, Will noticed, and when she came back to the table with two apples, he asked her, "'ve you been crying?"

Buffy shook her head, perhaps a bit too quickly. Will let it go. If she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't force her.

Biting into the red fruit, he looked her up and down and said, "Where're you off to?"

Buffy looked down at her ensemble of black trousers, coupled with a light, button down blouse in white. Black stilettos she knew she'd die in by the end of the day added that extra _zing_ to her outfit. She shrugged as a response to him, and said, "Going out for groceries, then shopping, then putting in an appearance at the gallery." Looking at him, still clad in t-shirt and sweats, she added, "Unlike you. Slob."

Will chose to ignore that comment. Frowning, he asked her, "Why? We've got enough food, you certainly have enough clothes, and aren't you on holiday?"

She nodded, but said, deprecatingly, "Yeah, but you expect me to trust Harmony's work?"

Will sighed, shaking his head dramatically. "Have to have confidence in people, luv. Who knows, maybe with your assurance, Harm could raise herse—"

Buffy snorted. "Your _Harm_ does nothing but harm." She stood up, abruptly, and said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have—" She broke off unexpectedly and one hand flew to her head. Grabbing the chair for support, Buffy swayed on the spot, trying to find balance.

Will stood up immediately, forgotten apple falling to the floor, and he grasped Buffy tightly to give her support. With a brow knitted with worry, he asked, "'Lizabeth? You okay?" Grabbing the bottle of water on the table, he pressed its open mouth against her lips, saying, "Here. Drink."

She drank, and he gently sank to the kitchen floor, holding her in his lap. She rested against him while he felt her forehead. "Aw, pet," He spoke softly, his voice hardly curbing his concern for her. That concern was echoed in his expression. "You're burning up!"

Buffy swallowed the water in her mouth and said, "Am I?" Her tone was lighthearted. "Well, that's sad." Freeing herself from his grip, she stood shakily and continued in the same jovial manner, "Oh, well, work is work and someone has to do it."

Will's eyes narrowed as he stood to match her. "But it won't be you today." He wound an arm around her waist and steered her towards the living room. When she protested, he gave her a good glare, and she was quiet. But only for a while.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Buffy dug in her heels and refused to climb. Will came down from the two steps he'd climbed and said to her, evenly, "Climb."

Eyes flashing at his resolve, she said, "No," her chin lifting in defiance.

Will shrugged and, with a quick, "As you wish," he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, well aware of the black eyes and bruises he'd get for this, but nonetheless pleased at having her in his arms again.


	11. With a Little Help From My Friends

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: Tired. V. tired. Forgive any mistakes?_

**_10. With a Little Help From My Friends_**

****

"You know, those glares of yours aren't very scary when you've got a thermometer in your mouth."

Buffy couldn't help it. She smiled.

"There. Knew I could get a grin." He glanced at his watch, and said, "Okay, pet, give it up." He took the thermometer from her mouth, and held it up to look at it.

A few moments passed, and when Will didn't say anything, Buffy said, "What is it?"

"Eh, hold up a minute. The lighting . . . the, um, light isn't quite—oh, crap," He reached into his pocket and pulled out something. When he held up the thermometer again, he grinned. "Oh, yes. It's 100.2 . . . oh, no. That's bad." When he turned his bespectacled gaze to Buffy, he found her shaking with laughter. "Pet, you've got high . . . hey, what's so funny?"

His defensiveness made her laugh even more. She managed to get out, in between giggles, "You . . . yo-you wear glas-glasses!"

He glowered at her. "Yes, it's hilarious to make fun of someone's physical drawbacks, innit?"

She was quiet after another short bout of chuckles. Looking at him with a smile, she said, "No, that's not why I was laughing. It's just that the glasses . . . they don't exactly go with your bad boy image, now do they?"

Will ducked his head bashfully. Rubbing the back of is neck, he said, "Yeah. No, they don't."

She smiled at his shyness. "Yes, but you look so cute in them and--" She broke off when a cough racked her, and suddenly, Will was all business again.

"Okay, now that's over," he said, "Here, swallow these." And he slapped some pills onto her bedside table next to the glass of water. As Buffy rolled her eyes and sat up, he got up from his stool beside her bed and looked around the room. Smiling at the wide array of perfumes she had on her dressing table, chuckling at the small pig on top of her dresser, out of Mr. Pointy's reach, Will stopped beside her full length mirror. It was framed in silver and all around the edges were photographs.

Bending, Will smiled as he skimmed over pictures of Buffy with her mom, her friends and a lithe-limbed, tall brunette who resembled Buffy in some ways. Pictures of the prom, where she outshone her date by far, college photos, and he saw Anya and Buffy at the beach, waving out from under a huge umbrella. His eyes traveled upwards, where the more recent snaps were, and he gently started peeling back a photo of the brunette he saw earlier, standing almost as tall as the boy she stood with, to unveil the entire snap below it. He was just about done uncovering the picture underneath, of which he could only see a black-clad Buffy holding onto a guy's arm, when Buffy cleared her throat.

He turned back, grinning, the picture entirely forgotten. At her side again, Will said, "Open wide," and she did. Giving her two spoonfuls of codeine, Will smiled. "Now, try and go to sleep, okay? I'll pick your friend up, if need be." He brushed back a lock of her blonde hair, and had turned to go when Buffy grabbed his arm.

When he looked at her questioningly, she said, with a soft smile, "Thanks, Will. Really. I'm sorry I bashed your head with a tennis racket yesterday."

He smirked. "All forgiven, luv. Now, try and sleep, okay? You need your strength." And he quietly left the room, switching the lights off.

Buffy lay still in her bed for a while. When she was sure that Will was downstairs, she threw back the covers and gently tiptoed across to the mirror. All along the floor of her room were boxes, waiting to be shipped off to D.C., and she was, amazingly, not feeling lazy about reopening all those boxes and putting everything where it had been picked up from. But first things first.

Standing on her tiptoes, Buffy quickly and carefully removed all the snaps of her with Angel, or Angel alone. When she was done, she flipped through the relatively small stack and stopped at one. A valentine portrait she'd done for him in high school which he'd forgotten in his locker when he graduated. She traced the outlines of his face with her fingers, then pulled her hand away with a sad smile. Putting the paper at the bottom of the pile, she quickly shoved it to underneath the shelf paper of one of her drawers.

When she returned to bed, it was as though a huge load had been taken off her shoulders. And, around fifteen minutes later, when Will peeked in, she was fast asleep.

* * *

At around eight that evening, the slam of the front door made Will look up from _Passions_. As he waited for the visitor to enter the living room where he sat in boxers and little else, he heard a muted 'oh my goddess' from the foyer. Putting down the TV Guide, he ambled over to the doorway, only to run headfirst into Willow, who was holding in her limited hands a boundless number of bags.

"Ouch," she said when they moved apart. "Ouch, and double ouch, and sadness for the now squashed pork you ordered." She set the bags down on the coffee table, and opened her mouth to yell, "Buffy! I have the mooshoo! Come on and get the DVDs with—"

Will broke her off with a firm hand. As his right hand covered Willow's mouth, he said evenly, "Well, hey Red. 'Lizabeth's a bit below par today. Do you think you can keep the loudness to a minimum?" Willow nodded, eyes wide. Grinning, Will let her go and tore into the boxes of takeout. "So, what have we here?"

Willow didn't answer, busy biting her nails as she glanced at the direction of the stairs. "What's wrong?"

Will shrugged, not pausing in his tasting of the spicy, sesame seed noodles. "'m guessing the excitement and travel caught up with her. She's got a bit of a cold, but will be right as rain by tomorrow."

Willow nodded again, sitting down on the couch beside Will. Eying the food, she asked, "So, are you and me going to eat food for four alone?"

Will blinked. "Four?"

Willow shrugged easily. "Yeah, well. I figured you ate like a pig." Glancing at his sesame smeared hands, she smiled. "I figured right."

Will rolled his eyes and got up, swaggering into the kitchen. Willow automatically followed him. As e washed his hands in the sink, he said, "Actually, there'll still be three of us."

"How?"

Will quickly wiped his hands and grabbed a Post-It by the counter and gave it to Willow. "That," He said, pointing, "is our third person."

* * *

Minutes later, Will was chuckling through his smoke as Willow sped away in her car. When he heard the soft padding of bare feet behind him, and perfume he was now familiar with tickled his nose, he said, "Come on out, luv. She's gone."

Buffy stepped out, glancing at him with curiosity. "How'd you know it was me?"

A wry smile tugged at his lips. Stubbing out his cigarette with his boot, he asked, "When do I not?"

She rolled her eyes and hugged herself against the wind. The sounds of the daily routine of her neighbors ignored, she said softly, "Do you think they'll get along?" When he shrugged, she continued, always glancing cautiously at his face, "I mean, they should, right? Both of them are—"

"It's for them like it is for us." Even though he couldn't look at her, he could tell she had blinked her bewilderment. "Relationships don't just workout if two people are straight, right? Same way, gay people need more than the same sexuality. So, they might hit it off because, like you said, both are incredibly smart, are just what the other needs, and both are great-looking. It isn't just dependent on the fact that they're gay, luv." Finished, he turned to her with a smile.

Buffy, on the other hand, frowned. Will couldn't see her nose in the dark, or he'd have called her 'Rudolf', as in the reindeer, like her mum did whenever Buffy was ill to cheer her up. The same red nose wrinkled as she said, "Us?"

It was his turn to signal his confusion over what she was saying with a blink.

"You . . . you said they're just like _us_."

"Yeah . . . your point?"

She looked him through dark lashes, and apart from her slightly wary, wrinkled brow, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. It became clear, though, when she decided to take the risk and said, "You aren't gay?"

Will could've fainted. He reached and grabbed the post to steady himself as she winced. Silence, then he asked her, shocked, "You thought I was bloody gay!"

Buffy winced, and he could see her recoil. "Well, see—"

"Why!" He was on the porch with her, now, practically in her face.

Buffy, in a rush to answer him and get him to back off, said hurriedly, "oh, it's just that you cook so, so well and the house is so, so, SO clean, Will! You've got such an amazing body, and you wear black all, ALL, the time, like in New York. And perhaps your girlfriend drove you to it, I've no idea, and you and Willow were so busy doing your own Will & Grace thing. I mean, I thought you were the gay guy and she was the Jewish redhead, except, of course, that you both were gay. It isn't wrong," she hastened to assure him, "I've nothing against them, but I guess you . . ." she peeked up at his face, ". . . aren't gay?"

He _was_ in her face now, so close she could smell the tobacco on his breath, the leather he seemed to be made of all around. She'd been backing up as she spoke and now, she was pressed against the open front door, his hands pinning her to the spot. Buffy swallowed, thinking of all the movies she'd seen where guys trapped women that way, and she was trying to remember how the girls got them to back off (Not very helpful, as they either ended up kissing, or the girls weren't so entranced by the shadowy blue pools of the guy's eyes that they couldn't look away) when he dropped his hands.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, as his other hand searched for a cigarette. As he lit up, he glanced at her tiredly and said, "Best go in, luv. Smoke and the wind aren't good for you."

But Buffy wouldn't back off. She approached him slowly, but surely, and laid a light hand on his shoulder. "Will?" She used the softest voice he'd ever heard, and he looked up from where she'd touched his arm to her face. "Are . . . are you . . . no, are we, whatever_ we_ are, okay?"

He looked at her, trying to ignore the feeling of how his skin burnt when she touched him. Swallowing hard, he looked at her face, made pale by the moonlight, and smiled. "We're okay, pet."

She broke into a smile and his words fired her into a spontaneous hug. As she pulled away, she whispered against his cheek, "I'm sorry, Will. Really. I believe you aren't gay, okay?"

He laughed, amazed at this girl and her mercury moods. "Yeah, yeah, now go in and finish that soup." As she walked inside with a grin, he took a deep drag of his smoke and yelled into the house, "But I'll kill you with my bare hands if you walk out barefoot again!"

* * *

_What a job,_ thought Willow, fighting her yawns. She lost the battle and her face stretched into an expression of laziness, her eyes watering. _Silly Buffy for getting ill. Silly Will for saying I can't take care of her properly. Silly weather for being _foggy_, for god's sake, in _June._ And, most of all, silly Tara MaClay for not seeing this huge sign I've been holding over my head for so, so long. Silly me for accepting Will—_

"Um, excuse me?"

Willow's train of thought collapsed as a blonde tapped her shoulder. She turned and said, through a smile, "Yeah?"

As Willow admired the woman's face and eyes, those same eye flickered to the sign Willow held and she said, smiling with ease, "Hey. I'm Tara MaClay."

_Or, maybe it was right of me to accept. After all, I've always been the smart one . . ._

_A/N: Is MaClay right? _


	12. Girl Talk

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: Thanks in bunches for correcting me on the Maclay thing. I've lost my Word copy of the first four chapters, and I'm too lazy to find the one on this site and save it. Let me know what you think!_

**_11. Girl Talk_**

****

"Hey. I'm Tara McClay."

Willow grinned and put down the sign. "Hi, Tara. I'm Willow Rosenberg, Buffy's neighbor."

Tara blinked. "Oh." She looked around, and said, "Is Buffy here?"

Willow shook her head, and her ponytail loosened further. "No, she's ill and Will's taking care of her, so I had to come instead. See, I just came home from work!" She pointed at her black skirt and white blouse. Her stomach, however, interrupted their inspection of her clothes. Apologetically, she put her hands down and said, "Sorry. Really hungry is all. Hey, do you want to grab your baggage so we can get home before all the food is gone? Or would you like to eat outside somewhere?

Tara grinned at the redhead's eagerness. She shrugged gently and said, "Sure. Whatever is comfortable with you is fine by me."

"Great." And Willow started moving towards the baggage claim. "We'll grab some food at this café I know nearby. I'm telling you, they make the crunchiest fries you've ever had . . ."

* * *

Buffy woke to the feel of a cool hand on her forehead. She smiled, leaning into the touch and covered the hand with her own. "Will," she whispered.

A giggle filled her bedroom, and it wasn't the vibrating chuckle of the man she was thinking of. Come to think of it, as she slid into consciousness, she noticed that Will's hands had suddenly turned incredibly soft overnight. Or, perhaps it wasn't Will at all . . . ?

Buffy opened her eyes to open windows and as she blinked in the light, a familiar voice said, "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Buffy squinted, trying to confirm the speaker was . . . "Tara?"

Dimly, her friend came into view. Tara was looking at her watch, and she corrected herself. "Or rather, good afternoon."

Buffy sat up in bed and threw herself at the other blonde. Knocking Tara down, she grinned and sat back in her place, saying "Good to see you!"

Tara got up with a moan, rubbing her back where the edge of the bed had rammed into it. She gave Buffy a once over, disapproving, and abruptly started firing questions. "What do you think you're doing, wearing boxers to bed when you have fever?"

Buffy blinked, but not because of the light. "What. Are. You. Talking. About?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "You. I know you've got fever, and yet you wear shorts to sleep? You kept your windows open, too! And what medicines have you been taking? Has this room been cleaned as of late," She started looking around, "because it seems to me as though—"

"Tara!" Buffy had to yell. "Stop, okay? Please, simmer down." When Tara's only response was a glare, she continued, "Now, if you've noticed my shorts, have you also noticed the thick blanket I'm using?" It was Tara's turn to blink. "And the windows were only opened fully in the morning, Tara. At night they were undone just a crack so I wouldn't suffocate. Will did that, not me. And the only reason for this room's dustiness is because I locked it before I left for London. If you look at any other room, it's all spick and span, really. Will's a very good cleaner, you know. It's his entire job."

Tara's gaze turned critical again. "That's another thing: who is this Will character? You and Willow go on about him as though he's a god, or something—"

Buffy brightened. Then, hiding her curiosity, she said in the most nonchalant way, "Oh, so you met Willow?"

Tara waved it aside. "Yeah, yeah. She came to pick me up yesterday. But, tell me, Buffy, who is this guy? He's living in your house, you know, and he has been for, what, two weeks? How do you know he's okay, and, well, safe to be around? Really, I thought you were a better—"

"So, what do you think of Willow?"

"She's lovely, though has a funny sense of decoration. But, you still haven't told me—"

"Oh, Tara, lighten up! He's Anya's friend, she's convinced me he's A-Okay. Plus, I've been with him for two days, now. He's good, okay. But how do you know about Willow's weird decoration sense?"

Tara looked surprised. "Well, I slept over at her place so obviously I'll know."

Now it was Buffy's turn to be surprised. "You slept over at her place!"

Tara looked almost defensive as she said, "Yeah, well I got here so late nobody would open the door, so Willow offered to take me over to her place."

Buffy frowned. "Well, then how come you're here?"

Tara shrugged. "Willow has a spare key, right?" Buffy nodded. "That's how. I slept in a bit, was really tired, so we came here a bit late. Willow's downstairs, making your breakfast now."

"Willow's here?" This was turning out to be quite a morning—er, afternoon. "She didn't go to work?"

Tara shook her head. "Who'd let me in when I woke up if she went?"

Buffy had to hide a smile. Tara was so quick when it came to taking care of people, but sometimes she was just so clueless, it was fun. "Tara," Buffy said gently, then louder as she heard steps outside, "If Willow had a spare key, why didn't she let you in last night itself?"

Tara frowned. The steps outside quickened, and just as a confused Tara said, "Well, I—", the door burst open and Willow broke in, loudly, "Hey, Buffy! How're you feeling? I got you your breakfast!"

Tara stared at Willow, who looked somewhat like a strawberry with a red face, framed by red hair. Buffy turned her chuckles into coughs, and Tara's attention came back to Buffy.

As Tara hit Buffy on the back, Willow put a tray in front of her and stepped back. Unseen to Tara, Buffy winked at Willow and made her blush even more. Swallowing, Willow handed Buffy a folded note. "I guess that's from Will," she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Abruptly, Buffy stopped coughing and sat up. Tara pulled away, frowning, but didn't say much as Buffy's hazel eyes skimmed over the words:_ Needed to run a few errands. Will be back around four. Don't worry, I'll get your cereal and Pop Tarts. Take your medicines on time and, pet, try not to tax yourself. Have fun. Will._

"He doesn't seem very considerate," Tara mumbled, reading over Buffy's shoulder. But Buffy didn't pay any attention to her, fingers that yesterday had traced Angel's face now touching the firm cursive words in ink.

She wished Will hadn't left. After waking up to his presence in the house for two days, it felt odd. And considering the way things had been left between the two of them last night, she felt for him the same guilt she still throbbed with for Angel.

Forcing herself to look up from the paper, she looked at her friends. "Thanks, guys," She said, smiling. "Really. Thanks for picking Tara up, Willow, and thanks for taking care of me, Tara." She reached out with slim arms and pulled them both into a hug. Not noticing their heads had banged together, she said, "You guys are the best," and followed it with a small sniffle.

Wrenching apart, Willow looked at Buffy, panicked, and asked, "Buffy, are you PMSing?"

Buffy laughed, and then broke into tears. The scrap of paper was crumpled in her fist as she curled into a ball on her bed and started sobbing, almost hysterical. Willow looked at Tara, alarmed, and Tara nodded in response.

Biting her lip, Tara crept over Buffy and stroking her hair, said in a whisper, "Hey, Buff. What's wrong?" Her only response was to weep louder, and Tara, rubbed her temples with her free hand, and continued softly, "Okay, this is about Angel, isn't it? You're feeling guilty, again?"

Willow frowned, and started to say, "What about—"

Tara stopped her from speaking further with a finger to her lips. Turning back to Buffy, she said, "You don't have to say much. You're feeling bad because you've broken it off with Angel, and he doesn't even know. Because of his ignorance, you know you have the chance to go back, right?" Buffy moved her head slowly, and it seemed to be a nod. "And the fact that even though you have the chance to correct what you think is wrong, and you've decided not to, makes you even guiltier.

"Well Buffy, let me tell you something. Look at me, Buff," Tara gently shook her arms, persuading Buffy to look at her. "Buffy. Look at me." Buffy turned herself this time, looking at Tara with red, puffy eyes. "Now, listen to me clearly, and get this into your head because I'm tired of telling you the same thing over and over again: You did the right thing. Is it really that hard to comprehend? I'm telling you, in breaking things off with Angel, you have spared yourself and him years. Years that could have been spent in unfulfilled expectations, half hearted compromises, and resulted in a broken marriage. You've saved yourselves years, Buffy. When you part right now, it'll be slightly bitter, guilty and hurt but if you go ahead with this wedding, you _will_ part, and I'm saying it only because I know you, and then, it'll be ten times worse."

The room was etched in silence for a while, Buffy's wide hazel eyes asking Tara's grey ones for comfort. Willow looked on with a hand over her mouth, eyes widened in amazement. In a while, Buffy smiled; it was a bleak smile, but nevertheless, it cheered Tara up and she leaned to give Buffy a hug.

When they broke apart, Buffy looked at Willow and said, eyes downcast, "I broke it off with Angel. The ring is in our joint deposit box, and I've left him a note. He hasn't got it yet. That's why I'm here," she put up her ring finger and said, "unattached."

Willow smiled sadly. "You didn't tell me."

Buffy nodded, still not looking at her. "We didn't get any time alone, did we?"

Willow sighed, then crawled to where Buffy was and hugged her too. The three of them lay together for a while, comforting Buffy, then Willow said, "We're lucky I've still got the movies from yesterday." Pulling apart, she grinned and asked, "Anyone up for quoting Jack Sparrow?"

The other two were silent for a while, then Buffy said, "That's Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow, you idiot."

* * *

Will came home late that night, laden with bags. He snuck into the dark house on his tiptoes, was cautionary to close the front door silently, deposited the bags noiselessly in the foyer and had reached the first landing when he noticed the dim glow that seemed to be coming from the living room. Frowning, he skulked down the stairs, again, and listened carefully. A low crunching noise and snores seemed to be coming from the couch. He warily peeked into the room and was relieved, somewhat, at what he saw.

Buffy, Willow and a dirty blonde (as far as he could tell in the partial dark) who he presumed was Tara were huddled on the couch before the television. A number of sheets seemed to surround them, as did bags of chips and bowls of dip. Not even one girl, however, was covered properly. Will sneaked up and gently pulled and tugged at the sheets, disentangling them from one another and draping them over the girls. He paused for a second to see what they had been watching, and grinned at Johnny Depp being slapped, twice in a row by two different girls. He was still chuckling as he leant forwards to put it off but he heard a low moan of protest.

Looking back at the couch, he tried to make out who had made the noise. His eyes went directly to Buffy's and stayed. Even dimly lit, her eyes were beautiful.

Will smiled. "Still up?" He whispered.

She shrugged, trying to get comfortable with her bag of Doritos. "Waiting for you." And her eyes went back to the movie.

He walked over to the side of the couch, perching on the part of its arm she wasn't draped across. He frowned at her answer and said, "Why?"

She hit 'Pause' on the DVD remote, and turned her full attention to him. "Cause you said you'd be here by four and you weren't. Now, please let me watch Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom?" She sounded mildly irritated.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing. "That's Geoffrey Rush and Keira Knightley, pet. Don't try to kid me." He looked at her through opaque eyes, and asked, with a tilt of his head, "Were you worried about me?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Yeah, right." A flash of hurt flitted across his face, so small she didn't believe that she saw it. "Just, you know, wondering whether I should lock the door. Didn't know whether you'd come back home tonight."

He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Didn't know whether I'd come home tonight." He echoed, looking at her with an expression she found hard to read.

"Yeah." He nodded again and got up to leave, after a brush of his knuckles to her cheek. She couldn't help it; as he stepped out the doorway, she said, as loud as she could, "Why? Did I say something wrong?"

He stopped at the doorway, and it was funny to see half of him in the dark, half in the light. He smiled a smile she could only call wry, and he said, "You said home."

"So?"

"Home, pet. You accept this as home, mine and yours."

Buffy was thoughtful for a second. Then she smiled, a smile much like Will's. "Yeah," she said, "Yeah, I guess I do."

He gave her a mock salute and said, "Well, goodnight, then, pet." She said the same, and he left the room. He heard her again when he was on the stairs. Returning to the living room, he cocked his head at her questioningly.

Buffy swallowed, and said, through a dry throat, "I guess," she kept her tone lighthearted and as casual as possible, "I was a _bit_ worried about you."

Will couldn't help it. He smirked. "A bit."

"Yeah, a bit."

He looked at her knowingly, and said, "Okay, then."

"Yeah." Then, she recovered from her soft moment and said, "Don't get your ego or hopes up, though."

As he backed out of the room with a gaze that left her feeling naked, he said, "Wouldn't dream of it, luv."

_A/N: The 'Captain Jack Sparrow' thing is from _ Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl._ I couldn't help it, I love the movie. If you haven't seen it, _RENT IT TODAY.


	13. Rising

_**The Road Home  
**Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: Okay, guys. I've got too huge a guilty conscience to go off for a holiday without putting this chapter up. So you'd better tell me how it was, okay?_

_**12. Rising**_

Tara woke to the smell of pancakes.

As she blinked in the morning light of the living room, where she lay on the couch with just Willow now, she wondered who was making pancakes at . . . seven in the morning?

She quickly threw the sheet off herself and padded softly to the kitchen door. Once there, she stood with her mouth open, amazed at what she saw.

"No, luv, not like that. See, you flip it this way so it's perfect on both sides."

A lean white haired man was standing behind Buffy and teaching her to make breakfast. As Tara watched, Buffy, clearly distracted by something (probably the guy, Tara thought with a smile) burnt a pancake and this made the snowy topped chef sigh.

"Here, let me show you how," And saying so, he leaned forwards and rested his left hand on her shoulder, his chin on her other shoulder and one hand snaked between her useless right arm and her side. Tara could see Buffy tense and stiffen and she couldn't help it: she giggled. The blonde pair whipped about and the pancake dropped onto Buffy's bare calf. As she howled in pain, Tara turned her giggle into a cough.

"Oh, man, sorry, Buffy!"

Will, she presumed he was, quickly turned off the gas and bent to look at the red skin on Buffy's calf. He looked back at her, rolling his eyes, and said, "Stop crying, 'Lizabeth. It's nothing." And saying so, he quickly got an ice cube for her.

Buffy, even through hisses of pain, managed to glare at him. "Oh, yeah? Says you! You've obviously never had a hot pancake dropped on your leg, have you!"

Tara was completely ignored as Will bent once more and rubbed the ice over Buffy's leg, saying sarcastically, "Yeah, well that's because I don't parade around the house, showing off my tan legs, wearing bloody boxers."

Buffy ignored the sarcasm. Sniffing, she said, "Yeah, well they aren't that tan; I haven't been to the beach in a long time."

Will couldn't stop himself from laughing. As he did, Buffy smiled, too.

Encouraged, she said, "Plus, I doubt your legs are tan."

Tara giggled at that, and the two blondes looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. Instantly, Will handed Buffy the ice cube and got to his feet, ready with a charming smile, ignorant of the glares Buffy was throwing him behind his back.

"Why, hello, there, pet," Will stuck out his hand and said with a roguish grin. "'m William Giles. And your beautiful name would be . . ."

Tara smiled at the charisma Will oozed. She placed her hand in his and said, "Tara McCl-Clay," stumbling when he turned her hand and kissed the back of it.

Looking at her from where he was bent to her hand's level, Will winked. "Didn't I say beautiful name, now, luv?" He was going to say something else, too, but the remnants of an ice cube hit him hard on the head. Whipping about, he asked Buffy, "What's wrong with you!"

Buffy stuck out her lip in a pout. Though she didn't know it, all Will wanted to do at that second was lean down and capture that lip with his own. She whined, "Help me up."

Acting as though she was a huge nuisance, Will easily picked Buffy from the floor and eased her into a chair. For a second, he was tender. "Comfy, luv?" But when she nodded, he scoffed, "Great, now you have an excuse not to make brekky. 'It's dangerous, Will, just like jogging!'" He imitated the lat part in her voice pretty well.

Mildly annoyed, Buffy chucked at him a peanut from the bowl on the table. "Meanie." She stuck out her tongue.

Will rolled his eyes again. Turning to Tara, who was watching the exchange amusedly, he asked, "I take it an accomplished lady like you knows how pancakes are made?"

She grinned. "Duh I do." And, grabbing an extra apron, she set off with Will to make breakfast.

In a little while, the table was laden with food and Buffy, injury forgotten, was stuffing her mouth with waffles and maple syrup and chattering away at full speed, too. Will shook his head at her, and Tara noticed the chemistry that seemed to surround the two. At one point, Will caught her looking at them and arched an eyebrow questioningly. She shook her head. Buffy, pausing in her criticism of Harmony's lack of professionalism, looked at the two with a quizzical look.

"What're you guys talking about?"

"Nothing," Tara assured her, "I was wondering where Will got that scar."

Will, finally having something he could brag about, grinned and said, "Buffy cries when a pancake falls on her." Leaning towards the blonde, he said, "Think, what'd you do when a broken bottle was slashed slowly across your eyebrow as you lay unconscious?"

Buffy stared at him. Tara shuddered, then Buffy whacked him on the nose with her fork breaking the silence. "Lie," She stated flatly. "Damned lie."

He looked at her, both brows in the air. "Oh? What makes you so sure?"

She sighed and said, "You'd wake up and run away the first time the glass cut you. You, I know by how you treat Mr. Pointy, are a big baby. Like a wet kitty, yeah, that's what you are."

He narrowed his eyes at her, then sighed. "Okay, fine, you win," He grumbled. "It was a bloody humiliating bike accident but this!" His voice rose, "Does not leave this room."

A sleepy voice asked him, "What? Your big sob story?"

Apparently, their chatter had woken Willow. She settled into a chair and glanced sadly at the amount of food left for her.

"I have to eat this?"

Will grinned. "Not a morning person, are you?" He sipped his coffee and said, "You could, or I'll do it for you."

She looked at him, hard, and said, in a wonder filled voice, "How do you do it? How can you eat so much, and I know you eat all day, and stay so fit?"

Will winked. "Trade secret, Red."

Willow shrugged and tiredly dug into her food. By about this time, everyone else was done so Buffy and Will took their plates and Tara's and began to load the dishwasher. From behind the kitchen counter, they watched Tara and Willow talk and Willow's face light up with a smile.

"They're doing well, eh?" Buffy whispered to Will as he bent.

Straightening, Will hooked his thumbs through the waistband of his sweats and grinned. "Seems like it." He whispered back, then bent down to the dishwasher again.

Buffy sighed, watching the oblivious pair at the table with longing. She kept handing Will a plate idly and suddenly, she thought aloud, "I want that. I want that comfort, that ease, tha obvious hold they have on each other."

Will stood up with a frown. "Don't you already do?" He asked, hesitant.

She blinked out of her stupor and said, "What?"

He tilted his head at her. "You said you wanted something like what Red and Glinda do. Don't you already have tha' with your Roman prince?"

She had to frown before she remembered who he was talking about. "Oh. Oh, yeah, well I guess I do, but . . ." She faltered, thinking of how to explain it to him. "It's not the same." She ended with a plea in her voice, but neither knew to who she was pleading.

Will looked at her dryly. "Fear of commitment," He stated.

She gave him a sharp glance. "Not at all," She said, firm. "I just want something that'll stay like that forever."

He shook his head. "Nothing lasts forever, ducks. Better get used to the fact." When, in response, she handed him a dish, he complained. "Oh, come on, 'Lizabeth! Bend and do it yourself!" But nonetheless, he put the dish into the washer.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Nothing lasts forever, dear." Putting down the towel she was holding, she said, "That was the last dish."

"Amazing, isn't it? That we have to go to the same place to work?"

> 

Tara smiled. "Yeah, but only for a while. This seminar is just about two weeks long."

"Yeah, plus you're psychology and I'm something _so_ different!" Willow laughed, high on sugar as she drove to the University.

"What are you?"

"A girl." Willow giggled.

Tara shook her head, tolerant. "No, as in what do you do over at UCLA?"

"Hm? Oh, I take freshman chemistry."

Tara stared. "Chemistry?"

"Yeah. A bore, eh?"

"No!" Tara shook her head, laughing. "It's just, chemistry for me was so, so hard and to me, anyone who taught it _had _to be over forty and a genius and . . . well, you certainly aren't over forty, and—"

"I'm also no genius, believe me," Willow assured Tara. "If I was, I'd have thought twice before deciding to renovate both my bedrooms."

Tara chuckled. "It happens. Like once, I confused the date I was supposed to move into my new apartment on, and left my old one early. So I show up there, and the owner is all, 'What the fuck are you doing here!'"

Willow laughed. "Man, you're fun. I'm so glad you're going out with me for dinner tomorrow."

Shyly, Tara looked at Willow. "How was I to say no?" Her voice was soft and Willow smiled.

"You know, Buffy and Will set us up."

Tara frowned. "Huh?"

Willow nodded, taking a sharp right turn and apologizing to Tara with a look. "Buffy was alright alone but Will sent me, instead, and then refused to let us in at night, remember? Even though I know he's up till two . . ."

"Yeah, but Willow?" Tara was smiling amusedly now, and Willow felt a flutter of worry. "You had a key. You didn't let me in, as well."

Willow blushed as red as her hair. "Yeah," she muttered, "I didn't want to give up your company so soon." She sneaked a look at Tara, who was smiling happily, and blushed a deeper crimson if it was possible. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. "Yeah, but have you thought of what we should do for Will and Buffy?"

Tara blinked, eager. "You've noticed it, too? Their chemistry?"

Willow snorted, unladylike. "I'm a chem. teacher, of course I'd notice it." As they swerved into the parking lot, she added, "Plus, it's so thick you could cut the air with a knife. The UST," she explained, "I'd be blind not to see it."

Thoughtful, Tara nodded as they left the car. She smiled at Willow inexplicably over the car. "Our blondes seem to be blind, then."

_A/N: Sorry if it's small, I'll give a big chappie once I come back. Right now, packing ho!_


	14. Settling

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: You guys still with me? I'm back from my break, and here's the thirteenth chappie. If you guys have had the patience to wait for three weeks, I love you. I love you so much. Thanks for the reviews!_

**_13. Settling_**

****

"Well, we should've known this would happen."

Buffy grinned through her cereal. She looked across the table at a moody Will who was rearranging his milk-less cereal and asked, "Oh? And what exactly do you mean by 'this'?"

He shrugged, popping some corn flakes into his mouth. "'This' means me bein' stuck here all alone while you trapeze off to work and those two . . . do whatever." He ended the last with a slight wince, and Buffy's laugh showed through.

"Oh, come on, Will! You knew I'd have to go back to work some time, didn't you? I've been home for five days!"

"Yeah, but," He struggled to find words, "It's not . . . it's not the same without you here."

She stood up and rolled her eyes. Placing her empty dishes in the sink, she put a hand on her hip and said, "And it was when you didn't know I existed?"

He carefully balanced his spoon on his nose. When it fell to the floor with a clatter, he bent to pick it up, saying, "Perhaps, but see, once you know chocolate exists, can't do without it, now . . . where's the damned spoon?"

Buffy sneaked over to the table and poured milk into his cereal bowl. "I'm like chocolate?"

He straightened in his seat, triumphant at having found the spoon. "Yes, same color." Looking at his bowl, his face fell. "Oh, look at what you bloody did! Now I'll have to eat it before it goes soggy!"

"You snooze you lose, dude," She left the room with Will staring at her back sourly.

Looking around the room, Will saw Mr. Pointy watching him through narrowed eyes. He stared back at the cat, shouting to Buffy at the same time, "Where did you get this crazy cat from, anyways?"

Her reply was muffled as she stood at the mirror on the stairs. "My sister and Xander gave him to me eight years ago."

"Your sis? Thought she'd be smarter than you?" He was unclear too, shoveling cereal into his mouth now, but somehow she understood.

"She was ten!"

"Really?" He asked, but it sounded like 'Vearry?'

Buffy entered the kitchen, fastening an earring, and said, "Yeah, but if you must blame someone blame Xander, because he was sixteen at the time."

"Who thought of the name?" His mouth opened wide, giving her a glimpse of its half-chewed contents.

She looked at him disgustedly, then turned to the fridge for a last check. "Xander. Dawn agreed cause she was obsessed with cars that time." Her gaze turned distracted as she eyed herself. "Okaayyy, what do you think?"

Will, distracted too, said, "Huh?"

"What do you think? Is beige and brown too typecast? Should I change?"

Will looked her over, taking in the beige peasant blouse and ankle length, A-line skirt of brown suede. He gave her a thumbs up, then quickly dug into his food to lubricate his dry throat.

She nodded at his response then flipped her open hair. "Great. Now, if you don't mind," She picked up her purse and the folder it was lying on, "I have a gallery to run."

* * *

Later that day, Buffy was massaging her temples as her stomach roared in hunger. For the past few days, Will had fed her well and today, when she was working again, her body refused to comply. She had only some cereal in her stomach and it was almost two, and the energy from that cereal had disappeared the second she stepped into the gallery.

"Buffy! Oh my god, you're back! Are you married yet! I thought the wedding was in three weeks? Oh, I know- couldn't wait, eh? Did you elope? Where'd you go? Was it fun? Oh, this is so amazing, girl!"

"Harmony," Buffy said, trying to placate the hyper blonde, "The wedding is finished, now can we get back to work, please?"

"Oh, tell me, where did you go for your honeymoon? Because the Jamaica trip— oops." She covered her huge, grinning mouth. "I forgot! That was Angel's surprise for you!"

"Oh?" Buffy put down her folders in her office and immediately, her free hand massaged her throbbing temples. "Well, that's sad, because I've been to Jamaica twice."

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter anymore cause you're already married!"

"Yes, Harmony. Of course. Now can you get me a glass of water . . .?"

"Yes, boss-woman, right away."

"Harmony," Buffy spoke after the skipping blonde through gritted teeth, "Don't call me boss-woman!"

Now, for lunch, she was sitting in the main lobby, supervising the setting up of the new display, enjoying the quiet with Keira, Sam and Joe, her other employees, as Harmony screeched out of the driveway, excited at being in charge of the burger run. "Of course," Buffy was saying to Sam, "She doesn't know the closest Burger King's shut down, so we can have peace for at least—"

_Half an hour_ was what she was about to say when they heard a car pull into the driveway outside. Buffy's eyes widened in horror while Sam winced. "You jinxed it," She told her boss.

"It isn't her," A relieved Joe called out, before turning back to whoever was running up the steps of the gallery. "So sorry, sir, but we're closed—"

"Well, of course I know you're closed, can see the bloody sign," A familiar voice froze Buffy. "Need to talk to your leading lady, see."

"Miss Summers?" Joe shot a confused look at Buffy's back, then said, "Sorry, sir, you need an appointment, then—"

Buffy broke in. "No, Joe, that's okay; let him in."

Outside, Will grinned at the young man. "Yeah, Joe. Let him in."

Buffy, who had been on the opposite side of the lobby, had crossed it within seconds when Will entered, dressed all in black, looking around interestedly. Grabbing him by the arm, she steered him to the side and asked, "What're you doing here!"

Grinning, Will held out a paper.

Buffy grabbed it and read what it said. Frowning, she asked in a confused voice, "A paid-for dinner at the Four Seasons!"

"Yep," He said, savoring the word, "For eight people. Pack up your stuff, get your crew into gear- we all are going."

Sam, Keira and Joe, who had been hanging onto every word, stood stunned. When Buffy turned to ask, "You guys coming?" after she had blinked out of her own daze, they didn't answer. She waited, and when they said nothing, she shrugged. "Well," She told Will, "They aren't coming."

Immediately, Keira yelled out, "Like hell I am!"

That prompted the others into action, too. Ten minutes later, Buffy was locking the gallery while Will stood at her side. When she was done, he offered her an arm and they walked down the stairs together. "By the way," she asked conversationally, "How'd you come by that, anyway?"

He winked as he opened her car's door. "I know the concierge. Called in a favor."

She grinned and eased into the car. "Cool."

Will looked around and said, "Didn't you have four employees?"

"Yeah, but one of them is . . .detained."

He nodded, saying, "Okay, then. More food for me."

And when Harmony pulled into the gallery almost two hours later, no food in hand, nobody heard her yell out, "Buffy, I didn't find the burgers, but these shoes will look great with my new dress!"

* * *

Later, when she asked him why he'd come to the gallery, he told her simply, "I knew you were hungry."

And as days melted together in the summer heat, Will knew Buffy like the back and front of his hand. She, too, knew him and his strange moods just by a glance at his face or the sound of his voice. Every day was like the other as Anya told Buffy through e-mail she was extending her tour, and Buffy, out of fear of Angel, refused to get her cell phone fixed. Tara, instead of living with Buffy as planned, moved in with Willow for two weeks, not caring if the two slept on a camp bed in the study.

Everything would have continued in this monotonous way if one day, Willow's car's tires hadn't burst from the heat. They were five days away from Tara's flight for New York, and it was time for drastic measures, as Willow said. In retrospect, Tara knew her girlfriend was right.

And as Willow went with Will to the car servicing place, Tara stayed and baked with Buffy. But what they did is unimportant. It's what they said that really takes the cake.

* * *

"Buffy, I think you should go out with William."

* * *

"Will, why don't you ask your precious 'Lizabeth out?"

* * *

"WHAT!"

_A/N: Sorry if it's short, I'm so terribly lagged. Let me know what you think._


	15. Gimme A Reason

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. Title belongs to a song by the Corrs._

_A/N: Love the reviews, love you guys. Here's another, let me know what you think._

**_14. Gimme A Reason_**

****

"One reason? I'll give you ten."

"Oh, really?" Buffy looked at Tara incredulously. "Then go on, by all means!"

"Number one: being single, at least for you, is not right."

"What is that supposed to mean! I can't be single for long, are you saying? Am I dependent?"

"No," Tara was speaking calmly. "You're too good a person to let go to waste."

* * *

Will snorted. "Lay on the flattery."

"Two," Willow continued, "You guys are compatible."

Will all out laughed, now. When he was done, he asked her, "Red, have you noticed how much we bicker in one day?"

Willow nodded, solemnly. "Yes, but that's the thing. You're both strong, independent, stubborn people who bleach their hair."

"Oh, I see," Will drawled and chucked his cigarette out the open window as they approached the car wash. "But please, enlighten me: why would a strong, independent person need another?"

Willow frowned at him. "Honestly, Will, is that all you are? You're much more than that. You're sweet, caring, genuinely concerned about her—right now, you're everything she needs!"

* * *

"I don't need anyone."

"Perhaps you think that, but this is what brings us to number three. Want to hear it?"

Buffy sighed. "Sure, whatever."

Tara dramatically cleared her throat. "Three: you're still smarting over Angel, even if you were the one who did the breaking up." She stopped to allow Buffy to say, indignantly:

"What! I'm so over Angel! Come on, Tara, don't you see it in me?"

"Really, Buffy? You're over Angel?"

"Of course I am."

Tara nodded, thoughtful. "Sorry, yes you are."

Fuming, Buffy said, "So much for your reason three."

"I have a replacement. Reason three: because you need to hold someone at night."

"I do not need to . . ." Buffy started protesting, but trailed off thoughtfully. Looking up at Tara moments later, she nodded. "Yeah, I do need to hold someone at night."

* * *

"But that'll make your friend a rebound girl, Red."

"Only if you want her to be," Willow insisted, "Which you don't."

"Oh, you're a bloody witch who can read my mind, now, are you?"

"No, I know you like her. Which is reason four. Because you like her."

"I like her!"

Willow nodded, grim. "A lot." Patting him on the back, she added, "More than what's good for you. And you know something more?" He shook his head. "She likes you a lot, too."

"How can you tell?"

"She lets you call her Elizabeth."

* * *

"Five: because he's single."

Buffy sighed. "I don't even know if he's over that Priscilla person yet."

"No, I think it was something with Dru. But anyways, he's an awesome guy. He, I think, is who you've been looking for, Buffy. All stubborn, hot headed and strong like you but a total softie on the inside."

"Yeah," Buffy smiled, distracted. "He is a softie, isn't he?"

"Mmm hmm." Tara looked around warily and added, "Also, I shouldn't say this, but he's got one hell of a body. He's just too great to be left single!"

* * *

"Hold up, Red." Will tilted his head and regarded her with a frown. "I thought she was engaged!"

"Yeah? Well, here's a newsflash: she's back in Los Angeles because her engagement broke off. Stunned enough, yet?" Will wasn't exactly in the state to answer, so she continued, "Hence, reason number six becomes: because she's single."

* * *

"Seven: he likes you."

"How can you be so sure?" Buffy demanded.

Tara rolled her eyes, a gesture she'd picked up from Buffy. "It's written in everything he does! He sneaks you looks when you aren't looking, the way he cared for you when you were ill, how quickly he forgave you for misinterpreting his sexual orientation, his innuendo, the way he flirts—"

"Tara! Okay!"

* * *

"Number eight," Willow started.

Will shook his head. "Can't wait to hear this one," he mused.

"NUMBER eight," Willow said again, louder this once, "If you ask her out, she'll say yes."

He frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"Refer to reason four. She likes you."

* * *

"I don't get it, Tara." Buffy looked confused and frustrated. "Not a long time ago, you were telling me I shouldn't move on because I'd just broken an engagement. Now you're telling me to move on? You're actually setting me up to go out with him? Are you demented, Tara? Has therapy ruined you?"

"No, Buffy," Tara sat down in the chair next to Buffy's. "That time I guess I was feeling for Angel, too. But to be honest, a man who doesn't care when his fiancée runs out on him is not someone I'd like to defend."

"He does care," Buffy tried protecting Angel.

"No, he doesn't. Has he called?"

"Well," Buffy admitted, "My cell is broken."

"Yeah? And what about the landline? And the gallery? Hm?"

Buffy didn't have a response. She bit her lip.

Sighing, Tara stroked her friend's hand. "I've seen you with Will. He makes you happy, Buffy, even when you aren't romantically involved. Imagine what he could do if you were."

Buffy was silent for a while. Then she said, tentatively, "So, that's number nine? That he makes me happy?"

Tara smiled. "Yeah, that he makes you happy."

* * *

Will nodded at Willow. "Guess you're right." He looked at his nails and then suddenly, looked up with a grin. "I'll ask her out."

"What! No!"

Will looked at her incredulously. "Red," He asked, unsure of how to approach. "Have you gone daft?"

Willow looked annoyed, helpless. Then she sighed and said, "Okay, fine. It's just that you aren't supposed to agree before the tenth reason!"

He looked at her with even more disbelieving eyes now. "O-kay, I'll give. Why not?"

"Because," Willow spoke patronizingly, "Then I lose my great finale!"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, pet," He said dryly, "Give me 'nother reason."

"Great!" Willow said happily. Then, succumbing to Will's look of astonishment, she continued, "Reason ten: because once I've filled your head with all this, you'll never find rest until you find out what could've happened."

Will looked at her. "Well, you drive a hard bargain," he said sarcastically, "But I surrender. I'll ask 'Lizabeth out. Happy?"

Willow grinned and gave him a huge hug, right there in the car. "Ecstatic."


	16. It's Just A Question

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: So sorry if it's late. Been a bit busy. _

**_15. It's Just a Question…_**

****

Buffy looked up from the TV when the front door creaked open and swallowed as Will entered. Immediately, everything Tara had told her earlier started repeating itself in her head and when she looked at Will, she couldn't help but compare him mentally to Angel.

"'ello," He said before sinking onto the couch next to her, an arm thrown over tired eyes.

"Hey," She tuned down _Baywatch_. "Car all good?"

Not finding the energy to speak, he nodded.

"Boy, you look so tired," She remarked, ignoring the show as her concern for him shone through. "Can I get you something? Coffee?"

Finally, he looked up at her and she felt her heart skip a beat as she looked into his blue eyes. He frowned at her, though, asking, "What's with you? Bein' really nice an' all."

She rolled her eyes and shoved herself off the couch. "I'll take it that means yes. Wait here, I'll get your coffee. You can watch TV till then."

Instead, Will watched her retreating form till it disappeared from sight. Then he started thinking of what Willow had asked him to do, and what he'd promised her. It seems easier when you're in a newly washed car with a gay girl, he observed. Now, just sitting here next to her made his skin tingle with a heat that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

When she brought him the coffee, he took it with a grateful smile. "Careful," She warned him, "It's really hot."

"Now I think I should've asked for a Coke," He mused as he singed his tongue after her belated advice.

She got off the coffee table where she'd perched immediately and said, "I'll get it."

Will watched her move with astonishment then leaned forwards and grabbed her arm. "'Lizabeth!" He said, whipping her around, "What's the matter with you?" He pulled her down next to him on the couch.

She made herself comfortable on one leg, the other hanging off the couch and shrugged. "I don't know," She said as a response to his question. "I guess it's just that you helped me out so much and now you're the one who's all tired, so I should do something, I figured."

He rolled his eyes. "Really, pet, you figured wrong." He shook his head admonishingly, and continued, "You're not my servant or something, luv, that I say something and you rush off and get it." Snaking a hand around her waist, he pulled her closer. Instinctively, the tired girl snuggled into his left side. The action momentarily surprised him, but then he got over it and started stroking her back in small circles. "It's not like you, so don't do it."

"That's good," Buffy said through a yawn. "Cause if you started taking advantage of that, I'd kill you, and that would be too bad."

"Really, luv?" He asked, pleasantly surprised. "Why'd that be bad?"

Buffy shrugged, sleepy eyes drooping. "I guess because then, nobody will be there to help me make breakfast."

That shut Will up for a short time. Then he said, gruffly, "Oh, so you need me for food, do you?" He started pulling his hand away from her back, but she grabbed it.

Will looked up and saw Buffy was looking right at him. A smile seemed to dance across her lips as she said, "And there's be nobody to hug me, nobody to listen to me whine, nobody to pamper me, nobody to carry me to bed when I fall asleep. In short," She leaned towards him now, her head balanced on his shoulder. "There'd be nobody and that would make me _very_ lonely, see."

He smirked at her blatant flirting. "So I keep you from being lonely, eh?" One eyebrow rose playfully.

She grinned, nodding, then abruptly yawned.

Will put down his cup and stood up, hoisting Buffy as he did. "Come on, luv, time for bed."

A giggling Buffy told him as he started his struggle on the stairs, "See what I mean! Horsy!"

* * *

"It's raining," Cordelia remarked as she stood at the window of her living room.

"Yeah," Angel said from behind her.

She turned to him, smiling with shining eyes. "It's so beautiful, Angel—let's go outside, please?"

He laughed and moved forwards to hug her. "Aren't you afraid your hair will get messed up?" He tucked a dark strand behind her ear gently.

Cordy smiled in return. "Not when you're with me."

Abruptly, Angel's smile faded. Suddenly serious, he said, "Cordelia, sit down. I need to ask you something."

Cordelia sank into the chintz armchair near the window, looking worried. Angel sat on the arm, holding her hand but not looking at her.

He was silent for a long time, playing with her fingers. Cordelia watched their hands, but threw occasional glances at his face. She wondered what he was going to say, and he spoke up, "You know I'm engaged, right?" She looked just at him, now. Slowly, eyes never leaving his, she nodded. He frowned at that and said, "How? I never told you."

Cordelia smiled. "Yeah, but you've never made it a secret from your colleagues, have you?"

He bit his lip. "You don't care." It was a statement, but Cordy heard the question it asked.

"No," she declared, touching his face with her other hand, "I don't care because right now, you're with me."

Angel nodded, looking behind her where he still played with her hand. "You know I love you, right?"

Cordelia's heart fluttered. She nodded, "Yes, I know."

"You know I'm going to break off things with Buffy when I have enough courage?"

"Yes," A whisper, thinking of the blonde girl she hadn't seen. "I know that, too."

"Well, do you know I plan to marry you right after that?"

"Ye—what!"

Smiling somewhat bashfully, he pulled their joint hands in front of them where she could see. And there, resting on her left finger, was a brilliant, beautifully cut ruby, set in antique gold.

* * *

"I've fed you too much," Will panted as he gently settled Buffy onto her bed. Another difference between earlier and now, his sly mind pointed out.

Buffy pouted. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

He grinned. "You're perfect, luv. Sorry, my mistake."

Huffily, she turned her back to him and looked out the window.

Her turning onto her side gave Will space to ease himself on her bed next to her. He settled quietly, boots still on, and propped his head on one hand. Looking out the window, he asked her, "Beautiful night, innit?"

She smiled. He could see her lips curl. "Definitely."

Sighing, Will threw himself back onto the bed and said, "Ever slept out on a night like this, luv? You can see all the stars. It's superb, 'Lizabeth, so many of them! But I don't think you'll see those many here in the city. Prob'ly need to go to the beach to see something like that, and—"

"Then take me."

Will frowned. Leaning up, he looked at her face, what little of it he could see anyway, and asked, "Sorry, pet, didn't catch that—what did you say?"

Mentally, Buffy cursed. "Nothing, Will," She said, a slightly bitter edge in her voice. "Nothing at all."

Will swallowed, knowing he'd done something wrong. "Well," He said through a dry throat, "Alright then, if it's nothing . . ."

"Yeah, it's nothing."

The two lay side by side in silence for a long time until Buffy gathered the courage and started a conversation again.

"So, Harmony said today that she—"

"Have dinner with me this Saturday . . .?"

Buffy froze as Will spoke up at the same time as her. She counted to five, then said,

"What did you say . . .?"

"Did you hear me?"

Again, they spoke together. She turned to face him, now, but his face was turned towards the ceiling, cautiously blank.

Buffy smiled and offered, sportingly, "You go first."

He shook his head, face still blank. "Nah, you tell me what Harmony did, now."

"No, Will what were you—"

"Will you go out with me this Saturday?" He spoke firmly, now, each syllable pronounced carefully. His eyes were still on the ceiling but when he heard nothing from her, slowly, he turned to look at her.

Buffy looked, all at once, shocked, happy, excited, frightened and guilty. She swallowed hard, and after a few moments, said, "Do you know that I'm not—"

"Engaged anymore? Yeah, Red told me. But you still haven't answered my question, ducks." He was trying to be patient, but it was hard. Especially when you had started looking at the ceiling again.

Suddenly, he heard a 'whack' and felt a stinging sensation on his forehead. Looking towards her in pain and indignation, Will froze as she smiled. The only light came from the moon outside and it cast a halo around her head, making her seem angelic. And when she spoke, his heart sang. Even if what she said was:

"You idiot." A playful ruffle of his hair. "Why didn't you ask earlier? Duh, yes!"

_A/N: Let me know._


	17. In My Arms

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. _

_A/N: Wow. Thanks so much for the reviews—they all make my day! This was hard to write, so feedback will be excellent._

**_16. In My Arms_**

****

Saturday came with a rush of feeling for all. Buffy was tense with the thought of her date with Will. Will was worried he'd mess up somehow. Tara was concerned about the blonde pair and also the flight she was to catch on Sunday night. Willow was miserable with the idea of Tara leaving.

Will spent the day in Willow's house, preparing and pacing. Buffy came home from work early and the girls rushed over to help her get ready, leaving behind a jittery Will.

At around nine that evening, he rang the bell to her house, over a dozen red roses in hand.

"Bloody ridiculous," He muttered as he waited for someone to open the door. "'ave the key in my pocket and still hafta wait for the daft birds to quit gigglin' long enough to open the door . . ."

And indeed, when the door opened, it was to reveal a giggly Willow. Will rolled his eyes and stepped in. "Hello, William."

"'ello, Red. Where's Goldilocks?"

"You mean Buffy?" Willow frowned in slight confusion. "She's getting ready."

Will turned to her, eyes wide, and said, "Still! She came home three hours ago!"

Willow rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the flowers. "Oh, Will!" Her eyes brightened. "For me? How kind!"

She reached out for the flowers but Will pulled them back. Willow looked at him, mock disappointed. Will looked at her with a mix of guilt and contriteness. "Sorry, pet. That's for ol' Lizzy. Here, this," He produced a beautiful white rose from his pocket, "is for you."

Willow smiled. "How sweet," She said, stroking her cheek with the soft petals. She looked up at Will and sighed. "I was supposed to torture you for as long as I could," She confided, looking around carefully. "But you're too sweet to torment, Will. Wait here, I'll go get your girl."

As Willow skipped up the stairs, Will shook his head. "Works every time," He muttered, chuckling to himself.

But a few minutes later, he wasn't chuckling as Buffy appeared at the top of the stairs. In fact, it was hard for Will to breathe.

She was wearing a dress. It was made with rose colored lace, the entire thing, and stopped just above her knees. The light color accentuated her tan even in the dim light. The sleeves just covered the bow of her shoulders. It was fitted till her waist, after which it slightly flared out. She'd left her hair open and it was perfectly straight, falling around her face and over her shoulders just rightly. Little, almost no makeup, beige sandals and a shy, blushing smile completed her attire.

Will swallowed through his dry throat and suddenly staggering pulse. Not knowing what to say, he opened his mouth and said the only thing that was rushing through his mind then . . . "W-wow."

Buffy blushed deeper, if that was possible, and quietly descended the rest of the stairs. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand clapped him hard on the back and Will turned around to see Tara.

Frowning, he asked her, "Where'd you come from?"

She whapped him on the shoulder and said, admonishingly, "Pay more attention to your surroundings, boy. She isn't everything, you know." She pointed a thumb in Buffy's direction.

Will turned towards his date again, and whispered through a smile, "Oh, but she is."

Buffy was now standing before him. He thrust towards her the roses and she smiled, cheeks matching the flowers completely. "Thank you," She murmured, "They're beautiful."

Hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket, Will only nodded as his nervousness overtook him again.

Buffy carefully put the roses into a crystal vase filled with water that Willow had magically appeared with. Then she took a bracing breath, reminding herself this was Will, and turned to him. "So, what do you think?" She asked, fingering her dress. "Too dressy?"

He looked up at that and gave her a scalding look that took in everything, from head to toe. The look scorched her, and she shivered slightly as he said, "Not at all, luv. You look amazingly, beautifully exquisite. You'll outshine everything . . . there." He finished somewhat lamely, not wanting to give away where he was taking her.

She blushed again, and Will wondered whether this was the same woman who had hit him with a tennis racquet. Swallowing, he asked, "So, shall we get goin', then?"

Buffy nodded and reached for her jacket. Will quickly moved to help her as Tara took the role of a strict parent. "I want her back home by midnight, boy. No wild parties and you will call me once you reach wherever you're going, understand?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Get over it, Tara. I never listened to Mom when she said all that and I was fifteen. You think I'm going to play Cinderella with you?"

Tara laughed and opened the door for the couple. "Alright, alright—get going!"

And Buffy and Will left, laughing still as they ducked into his car. As Will put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway, Buffy asked, "So . . . where are you taking me?"

"Well," Will said as he drove down the road, "I took Willow to a French restaurant and she hated it, so we ended up on the beach, eating hot dogs instead. So I decided to skip the showy stuff, and go straight for the fun."

Buffy frowned at that. "You mean you're taking me where you and Willow went on your date?"

He shook his head, oblivious to the slightly hurt tone of her voice. "Nah, I've discovered a much more beautiful place. I think I found it for you, luv—so I could take you there and you could fall in love with the place, and with me." He winked at her roguishly, and Buffy blushed again.

* * *

What Will didn't know was that he didn't gave to take Buffy anywhere special to make her fall in love with him. Buffy felt she was on the verge of falling into something so deep and strong she didn't understand it. And what was stranger was that she didn't want to understand it. She knew she shouldn't be over Angel yet, but somehow, she realized as Will walked with her, arm in arm, on the beach, she hadn't loved Angel as much the second time.

But this. As Will talked nineteen to the dozen, she thought that what she had admitted feeling for him was nothing like anything she'd felt before. A love so deep she could drown in it and feel safe, knowing it was him . . . Buffy was broken from her thoughts by a hand waving in front of a face.

"Christ, don't tell me you've gone all broody on me!"

Buffy whacked him on his chest and he laughed. One of his hands was around her waist, holding her to him tightly as they walked far away from the public beach. "Idiot," She said, pressing closer to his side to compensate for the coat she'd left in his car. "I was thinking of you."

"Oh?" An impish eyebrow lifted. "Thinking of how great I look in these clothes, or wondering," He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes twinkling, "How I'd look without them?"

Buffy blushed furiously. A part of her mind had been thinking of that, too. Her hope he hadn't seen her redden was dashed as he laughed loudly. Gruffly, she told him, "Oh, shut up—that's what you've been thinking all evening, too."

"Yes, I 'ave, and I admit it," He told her with a huge grin. "But you—tsk, tsk, tsk, luv. Didn't expect that from you. But I guess," He sighed, shaking his head, "I'm just too irresistible and sexy, eh?"

He didn't expect her to answer that now, did he? Buffy blushed furiously in the moonlight and quickly changed the subject. "So, where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see, luv," He murmured, nuzzling against her golden hair.

"I really don't feel like walking anymore, Will."

He chuckled and stopped. Without warning, he looped a hand behind her knees and picked her up with ease.

Buffy immediately started yelling. "Put me down, you moron! I can walk, you know! I swear, if you don't put me down right now I will—"

And the next thing she knew, Buffy was lying on the sand. Eyes wide in surprise, she said nothing as Will pointed and told her, "Sorry, pet, but that's what you wanted. Also, we're here."

He helped her up and she muttered, "Ouch, ow, ouchie, owie," before looking in the direction where he was pointing. When she did, her mouth fell open.

They were about a mile away from the public beach, now. Here, in front of low hills stood tall palms. The sand was practically white and it gleamed like silver in the light of the full moon. The beauty of the place was practically untouched.

In the water was a boat. A slightly big speed boat, to be exact, in which stood a guy with surprisingly huge ears. When he saw the couple, he waved. "Everything's ready, Spike!"

It was Will's turn to blush as he pulled Buffy along towards the boat. "Spike?" She asked inquisitive. "Your nickname is Spike!"

He quickened his pace and mumbled, pleadingly almost, "Please, please, please don't call me that! It's a damned college nickname I can't get bloody rid of."

Buffy giggled. "Okay, Spike." Upon his glare, she laughed louder. "Fine, _William_, I'm sorry!"

"You bloody should be," He said as they stopped at the beach, ten feet away from the boat.

"Sorry, can't get any closer!" The man on the boat called out. "You'll have to wade—it isn't hard, though. The floor suddenly goes deep. It'll be easy for you guys to wade—hardly three feet till here."

Will sighed. Buffy, on the other hand, grinned. "Cool! I love wading! So much fun, and—hey! Will! Stop! Spiiiike! Stop it!"

With no sound at all, he had lifted her into his arms again. As he started wading out towards the boat, Buffy didn't stop yelling and Will started yelling louder to shut her up. On the boat, Clem grinned and shook his head. "He picks them just right, Spike does." He laughed.

When they reached the boat, Clem helped Buffy in while Will hoisted himself up. As Buffy glared at her date, Will shrugged and said, "Hey, look—you're still dry. I'm the wet one. Now, when I hug you, you can warm me up."

_This seems to be 'Make Buffy Red' Day, _Buffy mused as she blushed again. She shot an embarrassed look at Clem and Will, intercepting it, grinned.

"No worries, 'Lizabeth—this is my friend, Clement Vincent. He's the concierge at the Four Seasons, remember? Clem, this is 'Lizabeth Summers. Joyce Summers' daughter."

Clem grinned. "Nice to meet you, Elizabeth. I love your mom's works."

Buffy smiled, genuinely liking this friendly man. "I think she would have said thanks," Buffy told him. "I wanted to say thanks, too, for that lunch you gave us that day. It was heavenly, and also very generous of you."

Clem waved a hand. "Aw, it was nothing."

"Yeah," Will said, intervening quickly. "Now, can we please move into the cabin? I'm bloody freezing here!"

"And whose fault is that?" Buffy asked as Clem, chuckling, led the way.

"Clem's! Why couldn't he bring the boat closer!"

Buffy shook her head. "You'll never change, Will. Really what do you . . ." She broke off as Clem opened the door to the cabin.

It was lit dimly, with scarves draped over the low lamps. The table was lit with candles in lamps and there were two plates and a few covered dishes. The roof was made of glass and they could see the velvety sky that stretched above them. The carpeted floor had two huge cushions thrown casually in a corner. Buffy was amazed.

With a satisfied look at her face, Clem said, "Well, I'll be outside, making sure we don't drown. We'll go for a long round—will one and a half hours be enough?" Buffy didn't answer, too busy looking at the cabin. "Will?" Will didn't answer either, too busy looking at her, anxiously waiting for her reaction. Clem sighed. "Okay, then. I'll manage. Tell me if you need anything, and I'll make sure we go slowly and gently." With one last look at both blondes, Clem sighed and said, "And I'll stop talking now."

When he'd left, Buffy turned to Will and uncaring of his wet state, hugged him, hard. "Oh, Will." She said into his chest as he rubbed her back gently.


	18. And In The Stars

_**The Road Home  
**Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: Think of this as Part 2 of the previous chapter. Let me know what you think._

**_17. Breaking the Absent Ice_**

"Well, would you like to sit?"

He pulled out a chair and she eased into it with a grateful smile. "Thanks," she said.

Will waved it off. He was wearing black trousers with a white shirt, out of which he now fished a bottle opener. As Buffy watched, hands tucked under her chin, he pulled the cork out of the wine bottle with ease that comes from habit. "Here," He said, pouring her a glass across the table. As he did, he looked up at her as she watched the liquid fill her glass. He would've overflowed the glass if she hadn't said:

"Okay, William, that's enough now."

"Sorry," He said, laughingly pulling away the bottle. "I get caught up in your face."

Buffy's cheeks seemed to be on fire constantly, now. She smiled, too. She held his gaze for a while then dropped it, shyly. "What's for dinner?" She asked, ignoring his chuckle. "I'm starving."

"You can have me, if you'd like." Buffy looked up at his words and smirking, he uncovered the dishes. "Cold pasta, smoked chicken and orange salad, French baguettes and cake. That enough, ducks?"

She grinned. "More than enough."

As they dug into the food, Buffy asked, "So, you know Clem from college?"

Will nodded. "Yeah, used to drag 'im to galleries and bookstores while all he wanted to do was visit pet shops and restaurants."

Buffy giggled. "That's sad for him. When was college?"

He paused, spoon halfway to mouth, and cocked his head at her. "Why, Miss Summers—are you inquiring my age?"

She shook her head, eyes innocently wide. "Why, I wouldn't dream of it!"

He grinned. "That's good. Anyways," He shoved the pasta into his mouth and spoke after taking a swallow, "I graduated six years ago. So that makes me . . .?"

"Twenty eight?"

He grinned. "Close enough, pet. Actually," He leaned in and confided, "'m twenty seven."

Buffy frowned. "How is that . . .? Wait up. You finish school at seventeen. Law is for five years. So you graduated at twenty two, five years back. Right?"

"Wrong." Will said, tapping her nose with his fork. "I finished school at sixteen."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "What? How!"

Sipping his wine, Will said, "Well, Cinderella, I was such a good boy that they moved me up a grade."

Buffy stared at him. In the silence, the lapping of the water against the side of the boat could be heard. "You," Buffy said with some difficulty, "You were a _good _boy!"

He smiled nostalgically. "Yeah, tha' was before Cambridge corrupted me."

Buffy was silent for a long time after that. She spoke up again only when Will asked her a question.

"So, you went to PAFA?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah."

He looked at her, his gaze somewhat inscrutable, and said, "You met this poof there?"

Buffy frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

"Your fiancé, pet."

Buffy tensed. "No, not really," She said, picking up her wineglass and taking a big gulp. "He was my boyfriend in high school, then he left for college. We met years later and started dating again."

Will nodded, saying with a cheeky grin, "Puppy love."

Buffy whacked him defensively, but nodded. "Yeah, from where I am now, it was." She mused.

Will frowned. "Where are you right now?"

_Almost in love with you. _"Far away from that time."

He nodded. There was silence, during which she helped herself to more salad. He watched her, then asked, "I haven' seen your paintings."

"Come to the gallery sometime," She said distractedly.

"No, 'Lizabeth. I mean your paintings. What you've painted, pet." He explained patiently.

Buffy frowned at that. "Oh, _that_." She sighed. "I don't paint anymore."

Will frowned too at that. "What? When did this happen?"

"Oh, around a year back," She said dismissively.

He frowned at that. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Angel felt it was taking up too much of my time, that's all."

Will looked at her, disbelieving. "Wait. Let me get this straight." He rubbed his temples, then said, "This guy tells you that you shouldn't paint and you stop! What is wrong with him? Heck, what was wrong with you?"

Buffy's jaw tightened. She said nothing.

Will looked at her face and sighed. "'m sorry, 'Lizabeth. Shouldn't yell like that but, luv," He reached across the table and held her hand, "Why did you stop? Did he really have so much control over your life?"

Swallowing, Buffy shook her head. "He was practically perfect, Will. But when I paint, I have a tendency to lock myself in the attic and not come out for days, weeks. I think he was worried about me. At the time, my works were slipping in popularity, too. So I decided to take a break."

"A break." He echoed. "For how long?"

Buffy shrugged. "As long as it took."

"Took for what?"

"Me to get my inspiration back."

He smiled understandingly, and settled back into his seat. "I can understand that."

She frowned. "How?"

Will let out a deep breath. "I shouldn't tell you this—you'll never let me live it down. But see, I was a writer, a poet earlier."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah, till high school at least. Then I took up law."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Family tradition. Plus, my cousin brother took it too. Da didn't want him to be the only kid in the firm. Plus, 's not like my works had a future."

She bit her lip.

Will looked at her and asked, frankly, "'Lizabeth, why did you break off the engagement?"

Buffy shrugged. "I guess because I realized—finally, might I add—that we were too different."

Will said nothing to that. They'd finished dinner, so he put two pieces of chocolate cake on a plate and got up. Holding out a hand, he pulled Buffy up and walked over to where the huge cushions lay. He helped her sit and then walked over to the switchboard and put the lights off, but let the candles on the table stay lit. Peeking out of the cabin, he gave Clem a signal and the boat came to a gentle stop. Buffy watched him curiously, and asked, "What're you up to?"

He winked at her over his shoulder. "You'll see." He said, switching off the last light and then making his way to where she sat. Settling next to her, he pulled her to him and pointed upwards. "Look."

Buffy gasped loudly. Will grinned as her hands tightened around his. "Oh my god, Will, this is beautiful!"

He smiled up at the stars. "It is, isn't it?" He mused. "Now, can you see Ursa Major? The Great Bear?"

"Two different constellations?"

He chuckled. "No, pet. They're the same. Here, let me show you," He grabbed her hand, outstretching it upwards, holding it with his own. Pointing with his index finger and hers, he said, "Now, can you see that star? The one above that little cloud?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Good. Now go eastwards—no, luv, that's west. Eastwards—right. See that line of four stars? Think of that as the handle of a soup ladle. Now, go down, back to star #1 . . . yes, that one. Can you see the other two stars that make up the ladle, now?"

"Oh . . . yes, by god, I can! It looks like a ladle!"

Will suppressed a laugh. "That's right, luv. That's Ursa Major."

Buffy grinned, then turned towards Will and said, "Wow, it's so beautiful!"

Will smiled. "Yeah, it is," He agreed, looking at her.

Suddenly, Buffy was conscious of how close they were. She was sitting on his thighs, her hand resting on his which was wrapped across her waist. Her eyes dropped and she became aware of how close their mouths were. She swallowed and made a decision in her head. Buffy gently closed her eyes and leaned in towards him . . .

"Now, that there is Draco."

At his words, her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, confused. But he wasn't looking at her. He was looking up at the stars, an odd smile on his face.

"It's supposed to be a snake. In Latin, Draco means both, snake and dragon. We've missed the lower part of it, which is better seen in May, but right here," He turned towards her, shadowed blue eyes meeting equally opaque hazel ones. His voice turned to a whisper as he said, "I have the two most beautiful stars in the world." Gently, his hand slipped up and ran along her eyelids.

Buffy shivered at the touch. His hand slipped from her eyes to stroke her cheek. She leaned into the touch, whispering, "Will . . ."

That broke all the self control he had been imposing. Will leaned forwards and captured Buffy's lips with his own. The kiss spoke of the passion he had for her as he urged her lips apart and she let him. His fingers slid into her hair and clutched at the silky strands holding her still, demanding a response that she was more than willing to give. His tongue slid along the length of hers, playing, dueling, dancing.

When the two broke apart for a breath, Will pressed his forehead against hers. He captured her chin with his hands, hands she wanted to feel all over her, and made her look up.

When he spoke, it was grimly. He said, "You can see a lot of Draco's upper half right now."

Laughingly, Buffy hit him on the chest and he, too, laughed. Leaning forwards again, he pressed his lips to hers in an exploratory caress. Soft and slow, he traced the shape of her mouth, his gentle, surveying caress making her shiver. When he pulled away, he planted kisses along her jaw and she let her hands entangle in his hair. He gently bit down on her earlobe and, as she cried out in pleasure, gave the same treatment to the side of her neck.

Buffy, too lost in feeling, forgot where she was, who she was with—She forgot everything except herself and Will. But when Will pulled away from her neck reluctantly, eyes dark with desire, and said regretfully, "Not now, luv. First date, and also, don't want to give Clem a free show," she came back down to earth with a bump.

Smiling, Will pulled her up into a sitting position. She wondered when she'd laid down. He sat her in his lap again and said, "Can you see that cluster there? Go upwards—that's the topmost star of Draco." When she looked up, he kissed her neck.

Buffy giggled and Will smiled.


	19. In Harm's Way

_**The Road Home  
**Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. Also, the chapter title I'd thought of long before a friend informed me it was one of Angel's S5 episodes. I won't change it, but just so you know._

_A/N: So, so, so sorry for the late update. A lot of things got in the way. I also have a bit more bad news. I'll be updating only on weekends, now. So, so worry but again, work is getting in the way. One more thing I have to apologize for? Well, this chapter seems meaningless and is very short, but you'll see later why I had to put it up. As always, let me know what you think._

_**18. In Harm's Way**_

"So . . . how's Willow doing?"

"Oh, you know—she's coping." Buffy doodled on the paper in front of her thoughtlessly, a wide smile on her face as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear.

"Oh." Tara fell silent on the other side of the country. When she spoke again, it was tentatively: "D-Does she miss m-me?"

Buffy smiled fondly at her friend, then realized Tara couldn't see it. Putting her smile into her voice, she said, "Oh, Tara, everyone misses you. Me, Willow, even Will, even if you guys weren't as close!"

Tara laughed. "I was waiting for you to bring up his name," She said knowingly, "You didn't give me any details! Just finally holding hands, clinging to each other and stealing kisses—stuff that should've happened ages ago. But tell me, did anything... _else_ happen?"

Buffy blushed in spite of herself. Covering her eyes with her hand, she rested her head on her desk and said, "Oh, Tara—not on the first date, girl, come on!"

Cackling evilly, Tara said, "Well, better than what I thought you'd say: 'Ew, Tara, how can you think of that!'"

As Buffy laughed, the door to her office slammed open and Harmony ran in. "Oh, Buffy," She said, dumping a load of files in front of her boss, "You know Kate? Your receptionist from earlier? She broke up with her boyfriend! The rascal, he cheated on her! Oh, and the shipment from San Francisco is here," She added offhandedly.

Buffy sighed. "Hold on, Tara." Looking at the files, she frowned at her assistant. "Harmony... what the hell are these?"

Harmony looked up from her inspection of her nails and said, "Oh, that's just my homework for business class."

Buffy frowned. "Well, what's it doing on my table?"

Shrugging, Harmony said, "Well, outside it'll get spoilt by all the coming and going. No proper surface to keep it on. I took off one of your Chinese pots but Joe started yelling at me so..."

Buffy looked at her hard, her jaw set hard. "Harmony... take this off my desk right now, or get out to never come back again."

Harmony's eyes widened. "Oh, but Buff—"

"No! Take it away! This is an office, Harmony, not your private lounge and locker!"

"Buffy, but—"

"_Out._" She spoke so eerily that immediately, Harmony gathered her files and left.

Buffy gave herself a minute to recover, then picked up her phone. "Hi, Tara."

On the phone, Tara gave a low whistle. "Whoa," She said, "That was hot."

Buffy burst out, "I don't know why I hired that girl, Tara! She's nice but god, she drives me crazy! No professionalism and no sense, she is a living hazard to the mind of anyone who she meets. And Will," She added shrilly, making Tara wince, "He hasn't seen her and whenever I say anything about her he goes, 'Oh, give her a chance, pet, she'll come through.' Come through my ass." Buffy ended with a very un-ladylike snort.

Tara smiled. "Two things. One, he's right. Two, you do a terrible British expression." When Buffy snorted again in response, Tara wheedled, "Okay, baby, we know nothing about Harmony."

"No, you don't." Buffy said rather savagely.

"Exactly. So can we come back to topic? What did you do for your date?"

Immediately, Buffy's bad mood evaporated. "Oh, Tara," She sighed, "It was amazingly romantic." As Buffy began an elaborate version of her date, she didn't notice her door crack slightly and one carefully lined eye peep in.

"When we came back home, he let me go in first and then came in after spending half an hour in his car. I was making coffee, and he just comes up to me all casually and says, 'So, how was the date? Guy any good?'" Buffy laughed, Tara's chuckling egging her on. "Yeah, then he walks upstairs as though nothing had went on between us! I don't know what Will expected, probably thought I'll go running into his arms if he plays hard to get, but when I went up to my room, he practically tackled and pinned me to the door!"

Tara was silent for a while, then said, "Okay, Buff, spare me the rest..."

Buffy laughed. "No, Tara—he tried kissing me but I pushed him off and left him howling." She laughed again, then stopped with a sigh. She was quiet for a second. When she spoke again, it was in a quiet and scared voice. "Tara, I'm scared."

"Of the dark?"

"No!" Buffy chuckled. Then, "Of this thing with Will."

Tara frowned. "Thing with Will?" She echoed.

"Yeah, this entirely new relationship. I mean, with Angel everything was so simple, Tara! I knew everything he would do; he knew everything I would do. We knew where everything was going. But this... I don't know how he expects me to act, how he wants me to talk, what he wants me to do! It's unpredictable. _He's_ unpredictable! And after living with Angel after so long, unpredictability scares me."

Tara bit her lip. "You'll break up with him, too?"

"No, Tara. I won't break up with William. One breakup per month is enough, and that was my engagement—still kinda reeling from it all. But I want to know if this is going anywhere. Because, if a few months from now, he wants to break up with me, I'm not going to be able to let go of this man, Tara. Heck, not few months but even few days. I think... it's probably too soon, but Tara... I think I'm in love with him."

Tara smiled. "Then what're you telling me for?" She asked gently.

"Who else can I tell?" Buffy shrugged, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Not Will, not so soon. One date, Tara—you don't tell a boy you love him after one measly date! You'll scare him off! But, yeah, I think he's going to be pretty important for me if I feel something so strong for him after such a short period of time. If he breaks up with me, I'm not going to recover soon, Tara. Maybe not at all."

"Oh, Buffy, don't say that. Everything will work out," Tara said comfortingly.

Buffy smiled as the door unnoticeably slid shut again. "Promise?"

Tara laughed. "Promise."


	20. Seconds

**_The Road Home  
_**_Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. Also, the chapter title I'd thought of long before a friend informed me it was one of Angel's S5 episodes. I won't change it, but just so you know._

_A/N: sigh I wish I could somehow weave in Oz. I love Oz. But I won't be able to, I guess. Maybe in another story, later. Anyhow, let me know what you think._

**_19. Seconds_**

****

"So I guess you just couldn't leave out the fancy restaurant this time, eh?"

Will laughed as the concierge guided them into their booth. "Yeah, I couldn't," He agreed, making sure she was comfortably seated before he sat down himself.

Buffy looked around and found herself staring back from huge, gilded mirrors. The golden ambience of the room made everything seem a bit surreal and as she caught Will's eyes, she grinned. "It's beautiful!"

He smiled back, adjusting the silvery tie he wore over his black shirt. The menus were brought and Will slipped on his reading glasses and read through the dishes. "So, what do you want, 'Lizabeth?"

Buffy waved him away, looking around intently with her chin balanced on her folded hands. "You order for me. Just nothing with shellfish—makes me sick. Wow..." She said the last softly, as though if she spoke loudly she'd break a spell, "This place is just _so_ amazing..." She trailed off as she looked at the beach, a long way beneath them, waves crashing on the sand as a group played songs around a bonfire.

Will watched her look down wistfully and signaled the waiter to leave. Gently, he reached across the table and took her hand. She looked at him, startled, but relaxed at the tender look in his eyes.

"Want to leave and go down there, pet?"

Buffy gazed at him intently, her heart aching with the gentleness he showed. He seemed to know whatever her heart wanted even when she didn't. The way he easily changed according to her demands made her heart sing out for his. She smiled and said, "Later. You picked an amazing place for dinner."

He lifted her hand and softly kissed it. They stayed that way, hand in hand, until the waiter came and Will ordered, confirming with Buffy for everything he put down. She watched him, now, loving the way he took charge only when she wanted him to. Loving how the glasses he wore made him seem more real, somehow. How his hair was beginning to show its true color at the root, when he turned to her and caught her staring.

Instantly, she blushed. One scarred eyebrow rose in response and she answered, "Yo-your hair. It's showing at the roots."

He touched his platinum curls and shrugged. "Better bleach then. I could brush you up, too, if you want."

"I'm showing?" Buffy frowned.

"No, put your hair is quite a mess, pet. 's black in places, in places golden brown, but on the surface it's golden. ' thought you'd like a head of fully golden locks."

Buffy shook her head, the tight bun that revealed her odd hair color moving too. "Nah," She said, sipping her drink, "I look fine this way. If I bleached completely, I'd look like Harmony." She took a bigger gulp of her drink and scrunched up her nose. "Ew. What is this?"

"Whisky, luv," He sipped his own, savoring the taste. "Finest of its kind. Don't you like it?"

"I hate it," Buffy declared, pushing the delicate crystal glass away. "Buffy and whisky, Buffy and rum, Buffy and beer are all unmixy. I can take champagne, wine, and bit of vodka but nothing else."

"Should've told me then," He took her glass and downed it in one go. "Would've ordered for you."

"Nah," Buffy shivered delicately as the cooling of the room began to affect her. She wished she'd thought twice before wearing her halter dress of deep crimson lace. It stopped at her knees with a diagonal hem and under that, she was wearing black trousers. "I can go without alcohol, thanks."

"Cold, pet?"

He'd noticed that single shudder? "Not really. Just wish I hadn't worn lace again tonight."

He smirked. "Personally, I don't know what you're complaining about. Me, I find your dress... inspiring." He took another sip from his glass and said, "I'll ask them for wine. It should warm you up a bit. Night is a bit nippy, after all."

"No, Will, that's okay," She protested lamely as the waiter arrived with their food.

Will rolled his eyes at her and asked the waiter to bring her a glass. The waiter nodded, but uncovered their dishes and served both of them before leaving. Buffy looked at the food, eyes slightly dazed, and said, "I'm not going to be able to finish this."

Will grinned. "Good, then. More for me."

It was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes as she bit into the roast chicken he's asked for. Halfway through her bite, the wine arrived.

"Oh, Will," Buffy sighed as Will waved off the waiter and poured her a glass. "How will you pay for all this?"

"It's all good, princess. Plus, I have to tell you something really important." Will muttered, easing back into his seat.

She frowned. "No, it's not all good. You told me you've got limited cash. Tell me—does limited cash dine five star?"

He looked sheepish. "No, but you do."

"What?" She waved a hand dismissively. "Of course I don't. I'd be as happy if you took me to an ice cream stand."

He sighed. "You and Willow, both the same. Moral values and all that. Really, can't you just experience an extravagant dinner and be content with it?"

"I'd eat more happily if I knew how you were paying."

Will sighed again. "I'm using a credit card."

Buffy frowned. "You said your dad had blocked them."

Will shrugged and started eating. "Was wrong. Checked it out at a shop few days back."

Buffy nodded. "Ah. The art of treachery."

"No," He grinned, "The advantage of ignorance."

* * *

"Who the hell are you and what do you want at this hour?"

"Xander? Hey, it's Angel."

Immediately, Xander sat up in bed, wide awake in spite of the ungodly hour. "Angel! Where're you? How're you? Everything alright, pal?"

Angel frowned at the concern and said, "Yeah, everything's okay, Xan. How are you and Anya holding up?"

"Oh, Anya and I are fine," Xander swatted the lump in bed next to him. "You tell me. Heard from the Buffster yet?"

"Buffy? Isn't she with you guys?"

"Angel, where in the world have you been?" Xander shook his head. "We're having a major case of cold feet. She left London like three weeks ago, leaving just a note. Anya and I waited for a week then started on our tour. We can't catch her anywhere, not D.C., not New York, and Willow, in L.A., says she hasn't come home at all. Also, your planner has been told there's a postpone in plans and now she keeps irritating us. But that isn't really important. What is is that we can't find your fiancée anywhere. Where're you, by the way?"

For the longest time, Angel said nothing. Then, he spoke in a dazed voice, "Um, I'm in Rome. And Xander? I'm engaged."

Xander snorted, then lowered his voice when he heard a stirring moan from Anya. "Um, Angel, sorry to say this, but obviously. Duh! Why else were we in London?"

Angel smiled wryly on the other end. "This fiancée is not Buffy."

* * *

"So, shoot."

"Shoot?"

"You wanted to tell me something _really_ important, right? So... tell away." Buffy and Will walked on the boardwalk with arms around each other's waists, pressed together close.

Will didn't say anything in response to Buffy. He just sped up slightly on the deserted boardwalk till they were standing underneath a cypress tree and looking at the moon and the water. Will turned Buffy so she was facing him, the tie of her halter dress loose from his ministrations earlier. Her hair was still tied but tendrils flowed to frame her face. In his bit-oversized black jacket, she looked beautiful.

"You look beautiful," He told her, brushing away a strand from her eyes.

"How many times will you say that?" Buffy murmured against his knuckles as he caressed her cheek, her eyes closing contentedly.

Will smiled and withdrew his hand. Her eyes opened and he said, "As long as it takes."

"For what?"

"For you to fall in love with my irresistible charms."

Buffy laughed and Will's heart flew. Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her.

Slowly, he began to rock to a rhythm she recognized and they were dancing without any music. When he stopped a moment later, he kissed the hand he still held to his lips. Looking into her eyes, he said, "Elizabeth. I..." He hesitated, and Buffy saw something in his mind click and change. Swallowing, Will continued, "I've found an apartment. I'll move out this week."

_A/N: Do not hate me! I promise to make up for it in the next chapter, really!_


	21. Moonlight

_**The Road Home  
**Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. Also, the chapter title I'd thought of long before a friend informed me it was one of Angel's S5 episodes. I won't change it, but just so you know._

_A/N: Okaayy, here's me stalling: We're through the second part of the story! Ten chapters and an epilogue just left, now... actually, that kind of depresses me. My first fic will end. Boo. Anyways, so sorry for the delay. Was trying to do my best to this chapter, but didn't succeed all that much. McKormick, if you've reached here yet, thanks and so sorry for messing that bit up. PinkyBlue-Ice, Spuffygrl, Dark Drusilla, Hatty, Kim and everyone who's been reviewing—thanks so much. I love you guys! Also, I'm sorry for the kinda cliffhanger that was the last chapter. Hopefully, this'll make up. As always, let me know what you think._

_**20. Moonlight**_

"Elizabeth, I..."

Buffy's heart skipped a beat. _Two more words, William... come on, now... _Her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment.

"I've found an apartment. I'll move out this week."

Her eyes remained shut for a minute, wondering where those strange words had come from. Her heart and mind refused to process them and their meaning. But when the confession she'd been expecting didn't seem to be forthcoming, she opened her eyes and looked at him confusedly.

Will looked carefully blank, eyes watching her intensely for a reaction. Her eyes asked him if her ears had heard correctly. The lowering of his eyes was all the answer she needed.

She pulled away from him, hands falling uselessly to her side, warmed by the hold he hand on her earlier. He risked a look up but instead of the anger he'd been sure he would find, he found only hurt.

Buffy swallowed. Hard. Blinking away the tears she knew she was on the verge of, she stammered, "Y-you're leavi-leaving?"

Will swallowed the guilt and took a hesitant step forward. "'Lizabeth, pet... you knew I had to some day, right?" His tone was as gentle as the hand he stretched out to caress her cheek comfortingly. But Buffy turned her face, refusing to allow any kind of contact. With a sigh, Will dropped his hand. "Luv, I'm sorry I'm telling you this way but I found out today and I thought you should be the first to—"

"First to what, Will? Know you had decided you'd had enough of me?" Buffy turned and looked at him, suddenly, her eyes bright even in the moonlight. "Well, sorry, Will, but whatever lame excuse you have for breaking up with me doesn't seem to be any—

"No, pet!" Will reached out again, wincing as she pushed his hands away. Frustrated, he shoved his hands into his pocket and said, gently, "Buffy, 'm not breaking up with you, luv. I've found an apartment, that's all. I thought," He hesitated, then said, "I thought you'd be happy."

Buffy laughed, without any humor at all. "Yeah, Will, I'm so happy. So happy the guy I'm in love with decides to leave without giving me a warning. Yeah, I'm so happy."

Will froze as she ran her hand through her hair in frustration. Will gulped audibly, and she looked at him through shadowed eyes. He swallowed again through a suddenly impossibly dry throat and croaked, "Yo-you're in l-love with me?"

It was then that Buffy realized what she'd said. As comprehension dawned in her eyes, she gave him one frightened glance then quickly looked away. Acutely aware, now, of the undone state of the tie of her dress, she turned away from Will and reached up to tie it up again. But his hand stilled her, taking hold of her forearm tenderly but firmly. He turned her so she was facing him and Buffy tentatively looked up.

Will's blue eyes seemed to melt to an almost black. But they still held that special shine that was present only when he looked at her. Softly, he reached up and pulled out the red and black sticks that held her hair together. As her hair tumbled around her face, he asked her softly, "Do you love me?"

_Well,_ Buffy said to herself, _this is going well..._

But she couldn't hide it from him. When his gaze met hers, he saw it flash in her eyes. His heart stopped, but she said nothing. Again, he asked her, "Elizabeth... do you love me?"

All of a sudden, a wave of determination hit Buffy. What was she scared of? There was just the two of them in this relationship, and so much space that could only be bridged with the right words... "Yes," She said, letting out the words in a rush, "I love you."

And that was all that Will seemed to be waiting for. He pulled her flush against him and, caressing her cheek with rough yet soft hands, pressed his lips against hers. Buffy, surprise making her uncertain at first, recovered quickly and slipped her arms up around his neck, pressing her soft curves against him in a way calculated to enflame him.

"Lord, Elizabeth..." He whispered softly against her mouth as they pulled apart for a breath. Buffy, panting heavily, looked at him with passion filled eyes. She slowly smiled as he did and contently, her eyes fluttered shut. Will pressed their foreheads together and said, "I love you too."

Immediately, Buffy's eyes snapped open. But Will didn't give her a chance to say a word, pressing them even closer as he devoured her sweet, eager mouth, cupping her head with both hands to guide and control her. But there was no controlling her hands, which raked through his hair before coasting down his back, pulling at him as though needing him closer.

Will suddenly bent on a side and, sneaking a hand around her knees, pulled her into his arms. Buffy yelped into their kiss and broke away, looking surprised at being carried all of a sudden. She looked at the boardwalk, then back at Will, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. "Put me down," She said crossly. "I don't like it."

Grinning, Will leaned in and kissed her again. Buffy gave in instantly with a sigh and ran her fingers through his white curls. He tasted gently along her lips, enjoying the fullness of them between his teeth. Her tongue darted out and he caught it with his lips, sucking on it gently as she explored the shape of his mouth from the inside. Her hands moved down over his shoulders to coast down his chest only to stop when all of a sudden, he started walking.

"Will!" She looked up at him, her hands still on his chest. "I'll fall!"

Will smiled at her. "And I'll catch you." He promised her.

Buffy smiled and submitted, again, just sharing soft kisses with him as he went from the boardwalk to the beach, her eyes closed as she gave into his authority.

Suddenly, Buffy felt herself being lowered to the ground and opened her eyes to look at the sky, instead of Will's blue eyes like she had expected. Then she realized she was lying on sand, Will lying alongside her, his head propped up on his elbow.

Buffy looked at him confusedly, but at his nod towards the sky, she looked up again. And gasped. "Pretty." She exclaimed waving her hand across the stars as if trying to reach out and touch them.

The crystal clear sky had billions of stars twinkling form near and far, but the entire sky was dominated by the full moon. It was late at night and the beach was completely deserted, possibly because it was also a school night. The silence only added to the charm of the night. As Buffy watched the sky, Will watched her. Suddenly, she turned to him and the joy in her eyes made him smile. Desire rose in him as he watched her tangled curls frame her smiling face and instantly, he leaned down and kissed her again.

Buffy accepted his kiss with a soft sigh. One hand coursed over his shoulder and back, looking for a way into his shirt. Her other hand tangled in his soft hair as his tongue coaxed hers out.

Will moved and came to rest over her body, pulling away from her mouth. He lowered his head to begin tasting along her throat as he worked, his tongue soft and warm against her skin. She tipped her head to the side to allow him better access, earning her a reverberating purr against her throat.

Buffy's hands came to a rest in front of his chest, trembling slightly with the pleasure he was giving her. Somehow, as his mouth slipped lower and closer to her cleavage, she managed to get a few of the buttons of his shirt open. Pushing the tie aside with a growl she didn't know she was capable of, she leaned up and kissed the hard planes on his chest.

Will moaned at her touch. Unable to hold on much longer, he looked down at Buffy with shadowed eyes. "Luv... tell me now if you want to stop. 'm not going to be able to later."

Buffy looked up at him, hazel eyes changing color as they darkened with desire and love. "Never," She told him confidently. "Never stop."

He smiled, wonder filling his eyes. "I love you." He told her fervently.

She smiled. "I love you too."


	22. Two Directions

**__**

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: Here you are. Lovely reviews, guys: thanks. Let me know what you think.

****

21. Two Directions

Buffy woke up with a smile, her face lit up by the early morning sun and her body spooned against a harder one. She sighed against the fingers at her lips and instantly, he gripped her arm and turned her gently so she was facing him.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the deep blue of his.

"'Morning, pet," Will purred, rubbing his nose against hers.

Buffy smiled and, sneaking a hand behind his blond head, kissed him gently. Breaking apart after a soft minute, she said, "Good morning to you, too. Ready to get to work...?" She rubbed her hand against his sweaty back.

Will moaned. "Luv, I think you've broken me." He rained kisses all over her face as she ran her fingers through his hair. When her other hand found a particularly sensitive spot, he gasped. Pulling back, he narrowed his eyes at her sheepish, yet triumphant look and said, "Of course, we'll just have to see about that..."

* * *

When Will finally came down the stairs that day, it was almost noon. Grinning from ear to ear, he trotted into the kitchen, hands deep in the pockets of his sweats. There, he froze when he saw Willow, feeding Pontiac, dressed impeccably in a suit of pastel green.

She looked up as she heard him approach. "Oh, good, you finally found the time to get out of bed." She straightened, putting away the pack of cat food and washing her hands.

"Aw, Red, don't fret." He poured himself a bowl of cereal, but couldn't find the milk. Willow handed him a carton and he said, "By the way, what're you so dressed up for?"

Willow turned to look at him, hands on her hips, eyes menacingly narrowed. "Don't tell me—you were so lost in the throes of passion with Buffy you forgot Tara arrives today?"

Will's eyes widened. "Red, I—"

"No, don't 'Red' me! I specifically asked you to get up early so we can go pick her up!"

"Wi-Willow! Pet, just listen—"

"_No. _I can't believe you forgot, Will!" She banged around the pots that she was trying to clean in the sink. "I haven't seen her for so long, and when she's arriving in just—"

"Just three hours, Willow. Remember, pet? The flight was delayed?"

Comprehension dawned on Willow's face as she remembered. "Oh." Then she blushed. "_Oh._ Yeah, I remember now."

Will laughed. "Good for you, Red." A beat, then, "I can call you Red now, right?"

His hesitating made her want to laugh. But she kept it in check and said, "Okay."

"Good." He replied, diving into his cereal.

"Good what?" Buffy asked as she skipped down the stairs, hair still wet from her shower.

"Good that you're up. That's our last cereal and he's about to finish it off." Willow said, loading the dishwasher.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend and grabbed the box out of reach. "I'm starving, here! Do you want to kill me?"

"Why not?" He countered, "You do it every night!"

Buffy froze, a handful of cereal on way to her mouth. She watched apprehensively as Willow halted work for a second, then chose to ignore his quip and moved on. Whapping Will hard on his arm, she reached out for the milk and asked, "So, Wills. Whatcha so dolled up for?"

"Buffy, don't tell me you've forgotten too." Willow sounded genuinely upset.

Buffy frowned. "Are you talking about Tara's flight? Cause if you are, then I didn't forget. It's three hours from now so I was just thinking of why you're wearing such formal clothes."

Willow's eyes widened in panic. "Formal?" She squeaked. "You think this is formal!"

Buffy spoke with difficulty, given the food in her mouth and the kicks she was receiving under the table from Will. "Um, no, Wills, not at all! You look fine! Just, you know, all office-y clothes so I asked—

"Oh, great," She sighed, grabbing her purse and pulling out her house keys. "I'm going to change, guys. See you in a bit." The back door gently banged back in place behind her, startling the cat. Pontiac jumped into Buffy's arms, meowing.

"Me and my big mouth," Buffy muttered, stroking the cat's back. Will watched as the black and brown animal stretched in ecstasy, then narrowed his eyes at Will. Boy, one of these days that cat was going to... "I wish I hadn't said anything."

"Actually, pet," He said, pushing away their bowls to clear the counter, "This leaves us all alone." He reached out to pull the cat off her lap, and dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor. Pontiac started to hiss, but apparently thought better of it and walked away with a flick of his tail.

Buffy sighed, albeit more amused than irritated. "Again?" She said, her voice small and tired. "I just had a bath..."

* * *

Three hours later, Willow and Buffy clambered into Will's DeSoto. Willow, happy with her short sleeved dress of white with green batik block prints, stretched leisurely onto the back seat while Buffy sat ahead. "This is so roomy," She told Will when he got in a moment later.

He grinned at Buffy, who looked away with a blush, and told Willow, who was examining the leather seat with her nose, "Yeah, pet. Very roomy."

The ride to LAX was mostly silent, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Whenever they stopped at a light, Will would run his knuckles up and down Buffy's bare arm, making her shiver. Willow didn't notice, or, if she did, chose to let it slide.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Willow gave herself a last nervous check in the rear view mirror and bolted ou of the car. Buffy started to follow, but before she could open her door, Will grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. Stealing a quick kiss from her, he started to say, "Let's not—"

But the Macarena interrupted them. Groaning, Will pulled away and motioned for her to leave. "You'll follow?" Buffy asked, and he pulled out his cell phone. Looking at the display, his mouth became a thin line.

"Yeah, pet. You go on."

* * *

Rupert Giles sighed. He held a silver frame in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the features of one of the faces in it. Suddenly, he put the photo down and grabbed the phone. But, changing his mind as quickly as before, he put it back onto its cradle and sighed, pulling off his glasses and polishing them with the spotlessly clean handkerchief that lay on the desk before him.

"Anne..." He whispered, eyes gazing at the figure in the photograph, "Tell me what to do..."

His wife's laughing eyes that reminded him so much of his son gave him the answer. He swallowed, suddenly determined, and putting his glasses back on, reached for the phone.

* * *

"Hello?" The tone Will used was abrupt and Giles knew that his son had recognized the number.

"Well, hello, Will," He responded, trying to sound casual.

"Da." Flat, now, an expressionless tone. "Tell me. What can I do?"

Giles sighed. He couldn't say he wasn't expecting this, but... "You really want to know, William?" Wihout waiting for an answer, "Come home."

"I am home."

"No, Will, you're in a city where nobody knows you so you can't be singled out. Look, Will, I'm sorry; I know I was a bit harsh, but—

"A _bit_ harsh, Da! You fucking kicked me out of the office! You reminded me how I was just living off your money like a leech and you cut off my accounts! You—

"Will!" Giles cried out. "Look, I'm sorry, Will—but listen to me— I—

"NO, Rupert." Will's voice was cold, and Giles hated it. He'd much rather Will yelled at him. "You listen. You PNG'd me out of my own office, Da. You left me on the fucking road, alone to find my own way. And guess wha', Da? I've found my way. I'm joining a new firm here in L.A., and I'm getting a house with my advance. Didn't you always say, Da, that wha' matters not is how high we are bu' how high we rise after we fall? I fell. Heck, you bloody pushed me over, Da. And I think it says a lot about me, how I'm rising does."

"William," Giles was pleading, now. "William, please, you don't have to prove anything. I know how apable you are, my lad! Please... please come home, Will. I miss you."

There was a long silence on Will's side at that. Then he said, softly, "Dad, I would, but I found my life here."

"But Will—

"Da. I've found my life here." They were both silent for a while. "Her name is Elizabeth. I love her, she loves me. I'm not leaving."

And when he joined Elizabeth a few moments later, engulfed in a group hug between Willow and Tara, she could see a special light in his eyes that told her everything would be just fine.


	23. Bliss: Domestic and Otherwise

**__**

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: Pinky-blue-ice: I wrote 'da' cause I say 'da'. I lived in Edinburgh for over a decade. I know you say 'dad'. Also, thanks so much for the reviews, everyone. I'm going to turn on the angsty climax, soon, so try to enjoy what fluff I'm giving you now.

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22. Bliss; Domestic and Otherwise

A low whistle escaped Tara as Will unlocked the door to his new home and let the girls in. "Wow," She breathed, taking in the high, domed ceiling of the foyer.

Willow, wide eyes echoing Tara's statement, nodded in unison. "You aren't one for the simple life, eh, Will?"

Grinning, Will held the door open for the girls as they walked past. Buffy walked in at the end and he closed the door, moving forwards to slip a muscled arm around her slim shoulders. "What can I say, ladies? Being with you has made my motto: Splurge, splurge, splurge." Tara rolled her eyes and moved towards the spiral stairs while Willow, with an unladylike snort, made for the adjoining sitting room.

Turning to Buffy, whose carefully blank face was looking upwards at the stained glass of the dome, Will asked, "Hey, luv." He tightened his hands around her waist and felt her hands imperceptibly moved upwards so as not to make any contact. Suppressing a sigh, he continued, "What do you think?"

A tight smiled appeared on her otherwise frozen face. "It's nice."

Fighting down his exasperation, Will joked, "Nice is what we call Red's food, pet; what do you really think?"

She maintained the same expression for a while, then, almost wearily, a slow smile spread its way on her soft, coral lips. "It's beautiful."

Smiling happily, Will softly kissed her neck.

But Buffy wasn't finished. "I hate it."

He froze and pulled back. Looking at her with a frown, he said, "What? But you said it's beautiful!"

Buffy shrugged a slim shoulder and pulled herself away from his embrace. Her tan dress that fit her like a second skin twirled around her calves as she walked to the lowest banister of the second stairway and looked up. "It is beautiful, but I don't have to love everything beautiful, now do I?"

Will, thoroughly confused, moved a step forwards, hesitant. "'Lizabeth... if this is about me moving out again, then—"

"Again?" She whirled around, her untied curtain of hair sparkling with the colored light that bounced off its golden sheen. "_Again?_ The first time I started, you effectively silenced me with your lips and words; then, you efficiently dodged the subject for the next week and now, when you take me to your lovely home out of the blue and I say something about it, you go 'Again'!"

"Buffy, luv, I'm sorry!" He knew he'd burst out laughing but the glint in her hazel eyes told him he'd better not. "I know you don't want me to move out, but we have to deal with it, don't we? It was going to happen some day: we both knew tha'. And 'm not moving to another city, pet: we'll still be close! I'll still spend all my free time at your place and you can come here, too! Elizabeth, I'm still—"

"I'm scared."

Will frowned. He hadn't heard her, properly, too caught up in his own words. Now he stared at her back, trying to puzzle out what she'd said. It sounded an awful lot like... "I'm sorry, kitten; what'd you say?"

He watched intently, now, and noticed her shoulders stiffen, her back tense. When she spoke, his ears were focused on nothing but her. "I'm scared, William."

He smiled softly but erased it when she turned around. Her smoky eyes, done up with so much care, were in the danger of being wet by the tears that glittered in her eyes. Moving forwards, Will wrapped her wordlessly in his arms and stroked the top of her head. Buffy hooked her arms around his neck and cushioned her head on his hard chest, letting the tears flow silently.

They stood like that till Will, judging by the wet state of his shirt, thought she had quietened down a bit. Gently, he cupped her chin with a callused hand and turned her head upwards. Her eyes were doing that thing they did, again, changing color. They were now a clear light brown, laden with layers of tears, now stilled. Smiling with soft reassurance, he asked, "What're you scared of, Elizabeth?"

Buffy shuddered, taking in a deep breath. Swallowing, she said, shakily, "W-when Angel went to college, that first time, our relationship didn't work out. Then, last year, he g-got transferred to D.C. And th-that's when I knew. I _knew_ then itself that it wouldn't work out! I should've told him, I know, b-but I wanted to work against the odds an-and look where it got me!"

Will looked at her sincerely and when he spoke, it was in a fiercely possessive tone. "In my arms. That's where it got you. Is that such a terrible thing?"

Buffy gulped and then sighed. "No," She said assertively, smashing a weak fist against his chest. She picked at a loose thread and said, not looking him in the eye, "It's just that distance... it scares me, Will. You've been so close to me and I-I don't want to lose you."

Will pulled her face up again. "Then you won't." And he dipped his head to give her a slow, searing kiss.

Buffy's hands, still around his neck, gave into the kiss and allowed his tongue to fall into place alongside hers. Buffy's moans were snuffed by the softness of his mouth on hers. Her hands automatically entangled in his tousled curls as she pulled him towards her, harder. One of Will's hands bunched up the stretchy fabric of her dress at the small of her waist and he was going to pull it up, slip in his hand and make love to Buffy on the stairs when Tara appeared on the other, spiral staircase.

"I say, Will," Tara said, unaware of how quickly the blonde couple moved apart on the other stairs, "It's huge! Four bedrooms! What will you do with all the..." She broke off when she saw the two of them, suspiciously far away from each other, Will scratching the back of his neck and Buffy a bright pink and candent. "Oh." She bit her lip. "Did I interrupt a major make-out fest?"

Both of them nodded, Buffy now turning scarlet.

Tara nodded, too. "Sorry. I'll go back up... Oh, and Buffy, don't worry. New houses make everyone want to... well, let's say, _break_ into them by having sex." Curbing a smile, she went back up.

Eyes wide, Buffy was speechless and Will, laughing loudly, smacked her ass playfully and said, "Don't know about you, pet, but when you're around, _everything_ makes me want to—"

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

An extremely bored Harmony snapped her gum loudly, prompting Keira to shoot her an irritated look as she dealt with a customer. With a cheeky grin, Harmony turned back to _Vogue_, her brow furrowing in concentration as she read. When the phone rang suddenly, she dropped her magazine and the champagne flute she was holding with a loud crash that turned the entire gallery towards her. She smiled apologetically, reaching for the phone as Joe whacked his own forehead.

"Anne Art Galleries. How may I help you?" She sloppily tried to clear up the mess but Joe moved forwards and moved her hands out of the way.

"Harmony? Is that you?" Harmony frowned at the voice. Somewhat recognizable, but not so much. Was it one of her...

"_Yes_?" She turned on the charm, full blast, batting her lashes at her desk.

"Hey. Is Buffy around?"

Harmony deflated like a flat tire. "No, she isn't." Her voice, now, had lost its sugariness and was curt and uptight. "May I take a message?"

"Damn," The man on the other end cursed. "Where _is_ she? Cell phone not working, answering machine taking messages..."

"Do you really want to know?" Without waiting for an answer, she said, "She's out for a rendezvous with her new boyfriend while the fiancé she broke up with rots in God-knows-where. Okay, so what's your message?"

"Boyfriend? Buffy has a _boyfriend_?" The voice was incredulous, unbelieving.

Harmony frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"Who is he?" Suddenly, he turned businesslike and brusque.

"What business is it of yours? Only Angel should get to know this piece of information."

"Harmony," Angel said through gritted teeth, "Who the hell do you think you're speaking to!"

Harmony's eyes lit up in recognition. "Angel!" She exclaimed, attracting, again, the attention of everyone in the building. She lowered her voice and said, "Angel! Hey! Where're you?"

"Nowhere. Who's her boyfriend?"

Harmony sighed, knowing she wouldn't get a chance to flirt with this one, too. "William Giles. Some crazy Brit. Damn sexy, though... my, you should look at his cheekbones—"

"Harmony." Angel's voice was quiet, almost shocked. "I'll call you later, okay? Oh, and don't tell anyone about this conversation."

And, much to Harmony's agitation, he hung up.

__

A/N: Yeah, I know, this is a really short chapter. But don't worry; the next one will be up this weekend and it'll be longer. Promise!


	24. Find Outing

**__**

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: You guys are really getting impatient, eh? Don't worry, it's all good: we're here, your lovely finding out. Before you read, though, here's a thing: I want to finish writing this fic by August 12th. I've written till chapter 26, but unless you guys review, I'll stick to updating just weekly. As always, let me know what you think.

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23. Find Outing

__

"What!"

The shout echoed though the snack bar, earning Xander yet another set of disapproving looks from the British. Wincing, he covered the mouthpiece of his cell phone with one hand and said to them, "Sorry, sorry... just found out I had triplets rather than a single child..."

Sympathetically nodding, people turned away and Xander, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, slipped out of the snack bar of the theatre and into the lobby. "What? What was it that you said?"

"She's in Los Angeles." Angel sounded sullen, flat. "I tried calling the landline but Willow picked up and told me a blatant lie: she hadn't been in the city for over a month."

Xander chuckled. "Yeah, Wills always backs her up. But really, Angel," He turned serious, now, "Are you sure she's there? We are, after all, going by Harmony's word..."

"Xander, even if she was making it up, where would she get my cousin's name from? And it fits. Will isn't in New York or London, and when I called Giles today, he was muttering about Will being stupid in love again. You tell me: is all this proof really going to waste?"

Xander sighed, rubbing his temples. He wished Buffy had contacted him so that he could back her up on whatever she wanted, too. But instead, he had to help Angel, because there was no reason for him to say 'no'. "Yeah, sure, why not?" He acceded, sighing inwardly again as he did. "Go on; try Los Angeles. Lord knows you have enough money to spare..."

Angel, again, was silent for a moment. Then he said, softly, "It isn't about money, Xander. It's all about setting things straight."

After he hung up, Xander looked at his phone for a long time. Then, remembering his duty towards the woman sitting inside, he pocketed it and went back in, mumbling under his breath, "Boy, these three kids are going to be so much trouble..."

* * *

"Hey, Buff!" Willow chirpily greeted Buffy as the blonde dragged in after a particularly rough shopping spree. "Found anything useful?"

"Ugh," Buffy moaned, letting go of the heavy shopping bags; they landed on the floor with a thud as she, too, dropped into one of the seats around the kitchen table. "He's so picky! We just got the kitchen done today... Tomorrow, in the morning, we tackle the bathrooms. Then we do the sitting and dining rooms and the weekend is reserved for the," Buffy blushed, "bedrooms."

Willow grinned, pouring a cup of coffee for Buffy. "Oooh," She teased, thoughtlessly scratching her calf when Pontiac had given her a good reminder of not giving him food. "The bedrooms... wonder what you're going to—

"Shut up, Will," Buffy was pink, now, and she threw a pear at Willow who caught it effortlessly. Changing the subject, Buffy asked, "Any messages?"

The change in the atmosphere was noticeable. Willow bit her lower lip nervously and said, "Well, actually, Buffy, you had a call from—

"'Lizabeth! Red! Where are you birds?"

"—Dawn," Willow said hurriedly as Will sauntered into the room. "You had a call from Dawn, yeah. Dawn called for you. She wanted to speak to you but you weren't home so I asked her to call later, because you couldn't talk to her, so she said—

"Willow?"

"Yeah?"

"Rambling."

Willow gave her a silly smile. "Yeah, I tend to do that."

Buffy smiled. "So... Dawn called?" She said carefully.

Will, snagging a carton of milk from the fridge, asked, "Your sister?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, I think I told you about her. She calls an awful lot whenever she fights with Connor. Her boyfriend," She added upon seeing his raised brow.

"Ah," He said, looking into the near empty carton and draining it with a shrug. When he was finished, Will said, "Well, I'll be off, ladies, so if you'll allow me," He threw the empty carton behind his back and scored a direct hit in the waste basket, "I'll be resting in bed." Deeply bowing, Will picked Pontiac up from the floor and walked away, talking all the while to the hissing cat.

They waited for the heavy footfalls of his boots to fade before Willow started saying, "Buffy, it wasn't—

"Shh," Buffy said softly, looking upwards.

As if on cue, The Ramones began to dole out their music and Willow looked at Buffy with admiration and shock.

"So," Buffy said, quite pleased with herself, "Where's Tara?"

"She's meeting with the dean about the project they want her working on. But, anyhow, Buffy, Angel called."

Buffy, who had a glass of water halfway to her lips, froze. Looking stunned, she set it down and stared at Willow, speechless.

Willow, looking sympathetic, said, "Yeah, he was asking if you were home or had been. I told him no, that you weren't and no, you hadn't. But he sounded kinda upset or determined, I'm not quite sure. Did I do the right thing?" She asked this last bit nervously because, albeit things between Buffy and Will were going excellently, Buffy could be mercurial.

However, this once, Buffy shook her head and Willow couldn't help but notice how her hair bounced on her shoulders as she did. "You did the right thing, Wills, no worries. I'm just wondering why he called here, after so long..."

Again, Buffy looked upwards at the ceiling, but this time her gaze was apprehensive and uncertain. Leaning forwards, Willow laid a hand on Buffy's hand and gently told her, "You have to tell him, you know."

She bit her lip, eyes still upwards. Then she sighed and laid her head onto their joint hands. "I know, Willow, but I don't want him to judge me... I've enough of that with Tara and with you."

"Buffy, I—

"I know, Wills, I know: you didn't judge me. But still, you can't say that some part of you hasn't lost respect for me, however tiny it is."

Willow was silent to that.

Buffy gave her friend a faint smile. "See? I can't risk that with Will. Not when the entire relationship is so new... not now, Willow."

Willow sighed. "Then when, Buff?"

Buffy closed her eyes, face pressing into their hands and the counter. "I don't know, Wills... I really don't know..."

* * *

Up in the room, oblivious to the emotions running through Buffy's pretty little head, Will was lighting scented candles that he had procured from a bag that had been incredibly hard to smuggle in. Singing under his breath, Will busily moved about the room, lighting one candle after another, filling the room with mixed perfumes of French vanilla, strawberry, and lemon. When he was certain that even without the bulbs, there would be enough light in the room, he moved to his other task.

From the same bag, he pulled out roses: white, yellow, pink, blue, and, above all, red. Humming softly, he swiftly plucked out the petals and threw them in no particular order onto the silk sheets of the bed. Constantly, he threw glances at the door to make sure she wasn't coming. When all the roses had lost their petals, he smiled self- appraisingly, and pulled out one last bloom from the bag.

This, too, was a red rose, its petals starting as a deep crimson at the bottom and gradually lightening a shade to red at the edges. Will fingered each petal, careful not to damage them.

"She's going to love it," he muttered to himself, moving backwards to sit on a chair.

Unfortunately, that chair was the one he had kept the thorny stems of the roses. And as said thorns sunk through his cotton trousers and into his backside, Will jumped up with a yelp, glad that the music disguised it. In the process, his Zippo slipped out of his hand and skidded to rest underneath the bed.

Moaning, Will got down to his knees and crawled to the bed, and then under it. Looking around for his silver lighter, he found it when a twinkle of light caught his eye. Lying flat, now, his chest pressed against the cold floor, Will pulled himself along the floor with his elbows and reached out for it behind a couple of boxes. He let out a triumphant noise when his hand closed around the cold metal.

Pulling himself out, now, Will just had his head in under the bed when he noticed a slip on the otherwise brown wrapping of the boxes. Curiosity got the better of him and he reached out for it, pulling the heavy box closer to him. Thanking god mentally for his 20/20 vision, Will read the slip.

And promptly dropped his lighter.

There, on a scrap of white paper stuck to the box, was an address of an area in Washington D.C. However, he hadn't read that. All he could see was: _To Liam Spencer._

Liam Spencer.

Will had no time to react; suddenly, heavy footfalls right outside the door caught his ear and he pushed the box away and pulled himself out from under the bed just as the door clicked open.

A loud, wonder filled gasp.

"Will!" Buffy cried out, leaning against the door for support, "Lord... it's beautiful!" Then she noticed he was lying on the floor. "What happened?" She quickly rushed to his side, bending beside him, her amazement forgotten.

"Nothing," Will muttered, wondering what to do now. Should he ask her or... He smiled, reaching up a hand and stroking her cheek. "You like it, kitten?"

She smiled wide, her eyes sparkling as she half sighed, "Nobody has done this for me before, Will. Thank you." And she threw herself on him, hugging him with rib-breaking intensity as he breathed in the vanilla perfume of her soft hair.

He stroked the back of her head as she held onto him, murmuring softly in her ear, hoping to shoo away the name that he had just seen. Gently, he pushed her hair away from one side of her neck and peppered light kisses all along her bare shoulder and neck. Buffy, who till now had been content by just holding him, started kissing the his lower neck where his topmost button was undone. When he gave a low moan, she looked up, her eyes impish, and leaned up to kiss him.

Will fisted his hands in her hair, his confusion transforming into passion as he traced her lips roughly with his tongue. Buffy gasped and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Her hands, between their bodies and against his chest, tightened around the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him towards her. Will found the hem of her blouse and sneaked in a hand, caressing her stomach as she broke away from the kiss, breathing hard.

Will wrapped his arms around her and made a move to stand. When she looked at him questioningly, he said in a soft voice, "I didn't go through all this trouble to make love to you on the floor."

Buffy chuckling standing up, too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she rose up on her toes to meet his mouth, trying to communicate with her body what she couldn't find words for.

Together, they fell into bed, arms and legs entangled, and Will, in his desperation to forget what he had seen underneath her bed, worshipped her till dawn.


	25. Choking on Her

_ ****_

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: Let me warn you, for five chapters, now, you might not like me very much. However, I'll accept your flames but I won't change much of my plot cause I've already written up to chapter 26. As always, let me know what you think.

****

24. Choking on Her

Will woke to Buffy kissing his forehead and mumbling, "Hey, baby, you ready to get going?"

She left the room before he could answer, tying her robe around her as she went into the bathroom to shower. Will sat up with a frown, and shouted at the door, "Why're we up so early? It's only... bloody hell," He muttered to himself, "It's 11:30!"

Buffy yelled out something but it was drowned by the noise of the water. Scratching his head, Will pushed the sheets off him and rolled out of bed. Standing naked, he looked around searchingly for his sweats. When he didn't find them, he ventured out of the room, still undressed and not giving a damn about it.

He padded to the room he'd been using, the guest room that was painted purple, signalling that it had been a girl's room once. Pulling open his closet, he frowned when he realized almost all his clothes were being packed for the move.

He felt a pang at the thought of moving, knowing it was more significant than changing houses and addresses. Wherever he went, now, this house where Buffy Summers lived would always be his home.

Sighing, he shut the closet and bent, rifling through the open airbag, searching for clothes. He had been in that position for a few minutes when he felt cold, wet hands wrapped around his waist. Smiling, he felt Buffy's small breasts pressing against his back and he straightened.

"Done already, luv?" He asked, placing his hand over hers on his stomach.

"Nah," She whispered, her breath against his bare back sending shivers down his spine. "I came to get something."

"Really?" One eyebrow rose. "Now, what could that be?"

Slipping around his slim frame to face him, she grinned. "You."

* * *

A good hour later, they emerged from the house, ready to shop. As they slipped into the car, Will reached for his seatbelt when Buffy moaned. He looked at her, frowning. "What's the matter, pet?"

Buffy, who was checking her pockets and purse, said, "I think I left my wallet in our room. It's got all my money..."

"You won't have to spend a penny, luv," He reassured her.

Buffy shook her head. "No, it's got my cards and everything..."

Will nodded. "I'll go get it." He opened his door and slipped out when he felt her soft hand on his arm. He looked back questioningly and saw the worry in her eyes.

"Hey... is something wrong, Will?" She was hesitant and suddenly, Will wished he hadn't shown his slightly withdrawn mood today.

He wanted to ask her about Liam, but he didn't want to, being afraid of the answer. Instead, he smiled softly and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I'm fine, Elizabeth. Really."

Then, before she could question him further, he turned and left the car.

Unlocking the front door and entering the foyer, he glanced at the sleeping cat on the couch before heading up.

He opened the room to Buffy's room – which she had referred to as their room – and was hit with the smell of vanilla and strawberries from the night. Unbidden, in spite of his quiet mood that day, a smile crept across his lips. He started humming, amazed at what little a thing could cheer him up. He headed for Buffy's dresser, eyes looking for her wallet, but his head thinking of her.

Of how she gasped when he bit her earlobe.

Her easy moans as he kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Her eagerness to have every inch of her smooth, golden skin to be marked as his...

He broke out of his trance when he couldn't find the wallet. Frowning just a bit, he increased his concentration, looking on the bedside tables where all he found was the leftovers of candles and rose petals. He headed for her dresser, again, and slid open the topmost drawer.

_ Ah, there it is._ Will pocketed the small thing and was about to close her drawer when he noticed something peeking under the shelf paper.

Knowing this wasn't right, and yet, unable to help himself, Will pulled out the offending colorful object and froze when it turned out to be a stack of photographs.

Of Buffy.

With Liam.

Swallowing through the lump that suddenly reappeared in his throat, Will forced himself to look at the pictures. An old photo of the two was on the top. Buffy was a good head shorter than she was now and Liam, his amazing elder cousin, wasn't as well built. They were standing on the steps of the very same house with the tall brunette he guessed was Dawn and an elder woman with glossy blonde curls, both on either side of the couple. Undoubtedly, the latter was Joyce Summers, her mom.

But that wasn't what he was looking at. Liam wore a tux, and Buffy was in a strapless silk dress of scarlet, her hair done up skilfully in a bun. She wore a little too much make up, but she looked beautiful. Apparently, Liam thought so, too, because the gap between them as they stood wasn't much. His hand on her bare shoulder made Will's jaw lock firmly. He put the picture on the back of the stack.

And here it was again. On the beach, lying on a towel, Buffy in a striped two piece with Liam sitting on his knees near her back, a bottle of lotion in his hand. Willow was there, too, with a blue haired boy who seemed shorter than her, but again, the proximity Buffy and Liam shared sent a pang to his heart.

More snaps of the two from high school. Holding a sign up in a peace march; meeting at the sidelines after a game; picnics on top of the grassy hill that overlooked the valley. Each picture suffocated Will, yet he continued rifling through them, feeling almost a desperate need to find a photo which showed a not-so-happy Buffy.

He reached more recent photos, still a couple of years old, but not from high school. Her hair was shorter, straighter. She looked like a woman who knew her own mind. He was more muscular, used a lot more hair gel, now. Standing together in the snow in front of the gallery in New York. Attending a Christmas party at one of his colleague's places. Smiling happily at the gate of an old, Victorian style house, him holding the 'For Sale' sign upside down.

Never did he see anything that made him think she was unhappy.

As he arrived on the last photo, he realized that weeks ago, he had almost seen these photos on her mirror, but been diverted. Buffy, in a classic black dress, held on to Liam's arm with her left. And, clearly visible, on her left hand was a huge diamond solitaire.

Will dropped the photos. Thankfully, the drawer was still open and they fell into it. He looked ahead, unseeing for quite a few minutes before shaking himself out of his stupor.

Swallowing hard, a shaking Will walked down the stairs and unlocked the door with shaking hands. When he got into the car again, Buffy turned to him from the magazine she'd been reading with a grin. "Hey, did you..." She broke off when she saw his white face. "Will, what's the matter? Are you alright?"

Her concern made him look at her. Wordlessly, he handed her the wallet and looked down at where her left hand was holding his arm. He swallowed.

Then smiled.

"I'm fine, kitten, prob'bly a bit under the weather, that's all. No need to worry your pretty little head."

But her deep frown didn't recede. "Are you sure?" She pressed her hand to his forehead. "Because we can go later, if you want... you should get your rest..."

"'Lizabeth," He said, grabbing her hand and holding it tightly between his own two. "You're skipping work to help me with this. Plus, it's Friday—I'll get all the rest I want tomorrow and day after. Also, you're so dolled up..." He looked lasciviously at her ensemble of cargo pants and a tank top, "I want to show you off."

Buffy blushed, pulling her hand away. "Ass." She said, slipping on her sunglasses. "Make me wish I'd worn something else."

Will chuckled, though he felt like crying. "I'd rather you wouldn't wear anything, luv."

He leaned in and they shared a soft, lingering kiss. As he put the car into gear, Will noticed the smile on her face and it was nothing like any smile she'd worn when she was with Liam. This one was more carefree, more genuine. More real.

And at that moment, Will decided that her history with his cousin would make no difference to their relationship. He'd be damned if he let Liam steal his girl away.

* * *

Unless, of course, the history turned out to be the present, too.

When the couple returned from shopping, Willow and Tara were lounging in their living room. Instantly, Tara, who loved home furnishings as much as the next homemaker, launched herself on the bags. Will was showing her things one by one when he noticed Willow telling Buffy something serious in the hallway. Tuning out Tara's exclamations, he tried to hear what they were saying but all he could understand was 'phone' and 'worried'. Thinking it was probably Dawn, again, Will left Tara to look at the purchases and slipped into the kitchen.

He pulled out a few bottles of soda from the fridge, yawning as he did. Boy, if there was one thing that wore you out more than sex and shopping was shopping after sex. Especially when you were with Buffy, who seemed to have endless energy no matter what concerned. He was grinning as he started to head out when he saw the red, blinking light of the answering machine.

Moving forwards, he hit the button and listened as a woman urged him to insure his car. Chuckling, he was about to move out when he heard a familiar voice that froze him in his tracks.

"Buffy, hey, baby. If you're there, then can you meet me in London sometime next week? Anya and Xander will be there, too. We all can sit and work out things about the wedding."

Will dropped the bottles, and a part of him that wasn't frozen in shock thanked God they were plastic. When he heard a soft gasping noise from behind him, he turned to see Willow and Buffy watching him with wide eyes and open mouths. Buffy looked particularly afraid, apprehensive and wary.

Will didn't say anything for a while. Then, his cheery voice rang out in the silence. "Mind explaining that, luv?"


	26. Wrong Kind of Flame

_**The Road Home  
**Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. _

_A/N: You asked for it, so let me know what you think._

_**25. Wrong Kind of Flame**_

Buffy held Will's gaze, her eyes wide and his narrowed, for a moment that seemed to stretch forever. Then, grasping Willow's hand, she told the redhead, "Willow, take Tara and go, please. I'll call you later."

Swallowing, Willow nodded and silently left. The two blondes heard her talking softly to Tara, Tara's high voice of concern and then the front door closed quietly, leaving the two alone.

The thud of the door seemed to announce movement for Will. Instantly, he bent against the counter where he was standing, hands holding the edge and low shoulders, head bowed. Buffy moved forwards to comfort him instinctively, but froze when she realized she was the reason of his shake-up. She stood there, halfway across the room, hand outstretched, biting her lip, until Will spoke.

"Tell me that wasn't your fiancé."

Buffy swallowed. Hard. Her hand dropped uselessly to her side and she fidgeted with the edge of her top as she stood there, silent.

"Tell me, Buffy. Was that your fiancé?" His voice was flat, emotionless.

Buffy wondered whether she preferred this voice or the other, hard, mocking one. Again, she didn't answer, choosing to look at her shoes instead.

"Elizabeth?" He sounded small, desperate and the word was like a whimper. Buffy looked up in alarm and saw him looking towards her, a lost expression on his face. "Please, luv... was that your fiancé?"

She didn't have a choice, now. Slowly, as though uttering a death sentence, she nodded and said, "Yes."

Will looked away. He stared at the marble countertop as though it held all his answers, the stiff, hard lines of his back forbidding Buffy from speaking. Somewhere in his mind, he'd known that it was true. But to hear it from her mouth... for her to say it...

"Will..." Buffy spoke when she felt the silence had stretched for eons. Her brows bent, concern for him filling her as she took in this new facet of the multidimensional personality of the man she loved. He was slumped against the counter in defeat, his expression lost, pained and completely displaced. She was unsure of how to deal with this man, but she knew she couldn't stand the silence. "Please... say something..."

"What's left to say, Buffy?" His voice sounded raw and hollow.

Her nickname from his lips seemed like a curse. She flinched. But it gave her a little strength and she stepped forwards, moving to stand behind him. A trembling hand came to rest in the small of his back and she moved it up and down in soothing gestures, hoping to calm him, while she leaned her head against his shoulder.

It seemed to do the trick. Will let out a long sigh, straightened a bit and leaned his head back, resting it against hers. Encouraged, she moved her other hand and it came to rest on his stomach. Will covered her hand with his, and warmth flooded her body at the touch.

"It's over with him now, Will." She said so quietly, feeling the need to explain Angel's disturbing message. "Really. He probably just called to go over things like... l-like the wedding invitations! I'm not sure they were sent out and i-if they were, w-we'll have to get them back and—

"Buffy." Will sounded tired, now, and yet understanding. "That's alright, pet. You don't have you justify my—

"No, but, see, I did break it off!" Buffy interrupted him, indignant towards Angel. "I left London! Shouldn't he understand, by now?"

"Yeah, well, ol' Liam always was kind of thick."

Buffy snorted in response. But then, after a lingering, yet tense, moment, both of them stiffened as his words hit them.

Buffy, nose pressed against the denim of his jacket, took in a shocked breath. Will's eyes widened as he realized what he'd let slip.

"'Ol' Liam'?... Will," Buffy asked him, in a stunned voice, "Do... do you know Liam Spencer?"

Will winced. If she'd said 'Angel', he might have been able to play dumb. But, nooo, she just had to say 'Liam Spencer' so he couldn't lie... "Yeah." He shrugged off the word, his voice casual. "He's my cousin."

Buffy pulled away from him, looking at the back of his platinum head incredulously. "What!" Her voice was shocked, her hands now light against his arms. "You know... you and Angel... oh my God," She pulled away from him completely, now, a shaky hand flying up to above her chest. "I-I think I n-need to sit..."

Will turned to look at her as she sank into a chair and ran to get her a bottle of water. Buffy, her head between her hands that rested on her knees, was quietly muttering to herself, disbelieving.

"'Lizabeth?" His soft, accented voice made her look up. "Water?"

Buffy gratefully, unsteadily took the cup and drank from it, aware she was spilling some of it but uncaring. She watched him with one hazel eye as he leaned before her, on one knee, and suddenly, unprovoked, her anger rose. Draining the cup, she slammed it onto the table beside her and stared at Will.

"You're Angel's brother."

"Cousin. First cousins, though as far as I care I'm not—

"You're related to him?"

Will tilted his head to one side and looked at her. Something dangerous was sparking up in her eyes. The scales seemed to have shifted, now, and it seemed she was the one who was... "Elizabeth," He said suddenly, "Are you upset?"

Buffy laughed. It was a harsh, unfeeling and cold laugh that frightened Will; he didn't know she was capable of that. "Upset, William? Of course not — why would I be upset?" She stood, abruptly, and started pacing the length of the kitchen. "Just because you've hidden from me that you're Angel's cousin? No, that's silly. That you don't trust me enough to believe that I've finished things with him? Of course not! And it certainly can't be because Angel can't respect my feelings and, when I wrote in the note to 'Leave me alone', God forbid he should leave me alone!"

Will stared. The Buffy he had seen the past months was a sweet, clever, spunky and intelligent girl who seemed to have too much of a good thing: patience. After the first few days of her initial inklings towards him, she'd been good to him all the time. Now, at the height of her ire, eyes wide and glittering, her hands motioning to the doors and walls, she was scary. Will was worried.

But more than that, he was curious. When she mentioned 'note', his interest was piqued. And before she could restart her tirade about why she _wasn't_ angry, he interrupted.

"What note?"

Buffy frowned, her train of thought crashing. She looked at him with narrowed eyes as she decelerated her pacing. "Note?" She echoed.

Will took a great risk and nodded. "You mentioned a note."

Something clicked in her eyes. They widened. "Oh my... he didn't get it, did he?..." She groped, suddenly, behind her for a chair and reached the fridge, leaning against it, looking decidedly white.

Will frowned and got up from the floor. "Buffy?" He approached her, his brow furrowed in worry. "Are you alright?"

Buffy grabbed the lapels of his jacket and said, in a whisper, "Will... he didn't get my note!" She let go of him as abruptly and started pacing again, an agitated hand running through her hair. "He thinks we're still engaged!"

"What?"

She looked at him as though she noticed his presence for the first time. Swallowing hard, she stretched out a helpless hand towards him. He came to it, cursing himself as he did, for being love's bitch. He took her soft hand and kissed her knuckles, leading her to the table and helping her into a seat. "I-I need to tell you something, Will." Buffy spoke hesitantly, looking at where their hands joined rather than into his eyes.

"Is it 'bout Liam?" His voice was quiet, but it spoke in volumes of the feeling behind it.

She nodded.

He swallowed. "Shoot." He managed to wheeze.

Buffy took a heaving breath and a slight shudder passed her slim frame. "Wh-when I went to London last month, Angel w-wasn't there. He was in Rome, for some kind of me-meet. I had a week to myself before Anya and Xan arrived. And, when I was alone, I got time to think of my decision to marry him. And..." Buffy swallowed, again, and spoke again, encouraged by his reassuring nod, "and I realized I couldn't marry him." She said this so simply he couldn't doubt her. "I-I just couldn't, I knew that. I know the reasons but... b-but they're some-something I wasn't sure he'd understand. I didn't know if I could exp-explain to him. So I did the next best thing: I ran out."

But, you know, Xander, Anya, Angel; all of them would be arriving in a week. They needed to know what I was doing. So, I left a note at the reception. I think Angel prolonged his trip in Rome and Anya got the note. I'd written that I wasn't coming here to L.A. or D.C., so they didn't call me. My phone was damaged— I was too scared of the call I knew Angel would make, so I didn't g-get it fixed. Anya emailed me. She said she understood. She said he needed to know and that I'd have to tell him. I... I didn't reply."

I thought Anya and Xander would tell him. But Anya's kind of stubborn, too. I... I guess that she wants me to tell him. But he doesn't know that. He," She swallowed here, her eyes still downcast, "thinks we're still engaged. And he wants me to come to London, again, so we can work things out." She bit her lip, hard. "I didn't tell him."

The silence that stretched between the two was long and hard. Then, slowly, Will slipped his fingers out of hers. Buffy, shocked and hurt, looked up at him through eyes that sparkled with unshed tears. Will looked away, refusing to hold her gaze.

"I... I need to go away, Buffy..." He stood up, knocking the chair to the floor. He seemed not to notice. He walked away but paused at the door. Turning halfway to her, Will said to the floor, "I... I think that was the worst of all things you can do to a person who loves you, Buffy. I can't imagine something more horrible. Maybe you're innocent... but, still. I don't think you can hurt him more than when he finds out the truth. I'm going out for a while. I-I can't be around you right now." He moved to walk out, but stopped. "I'm sorry."

And then, he did walk out.


	27. On the House

**__**

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: Hey, I'm so sorry that the last chapter took so long. I crashed my computer, see. Here's another one for you all to evaluate. Thanks so much for the reviews!

****

26. On the House

Buffy woke up with a throbbing head and a frown. Automatically, she stretched out her hand to grab the person lying next to her and frowned deeper when her hand met air. She rolled in the direction and promptly fell off the couch and onto the carpet in Willow's living room.

Rubbing her head, Buffy sat up and looked around, confused. A soft white comforter was entangled about her body and not the satin sheets of her bed. Looking around, she realized they were close to dawn and she wondered why she was in Willow's home. And suddenly, she remembered what had happened last night.

Instinctively, she pulled the blanket around her and curled into a foetal position. She closed her eyes tightly against the tears, forbidding herself to show any kind of weakness. And curled like that on Willow's floor, Buffy fell asleep again.

* * *

Tara stood in the doorway, watching Buffy sleep. She had a pencil in her mouth and a worried expression on her face as she watched her friend. Willow came clambering down the stairs, soon, tying up her damp hair in a scrunchie and stopped when she saw Tara standing that way.

Buffy had come to them last evening with tracks of tears mixed with mascara down her cheeks. Willow and Tara had comforted her, asking no questions of the crying blonde. Soon enough, though, the story had come hiccupping out in bits and they'd been able to understand that Buffy and Will had a fallout. After they had calmed her down a bit and Tara had given her some of her magical chamomile tea, Willow lent Buffy clothes and she'd fallen asleep on the couch, still crying silently.

In the late morning light, Buffy looked almost angelic. Wrapped in white, her golden hair like a halo around her pale face. But her forehead, creased heavily with lines, her puffy eyes, her protective position and tearstained cheeks made her seem a lot more mundane. More real, capable of pain; not the figure of ethereal grace and conduct she projected before others.

Willow thought it was frightening.

She went and slipped her arms gently, softly around Tara. Tara relaxed and leaned back into Willow. "I'm worried," She said quietly.

Willow nodded. "So am I."

That seemed to be all they needed to say. They stood together in silence, wondering where to go, now.

* * *

Will came into an empty house.

He looked in the living room, in the kitchen, in the dining room. He went upstairs and checked in her room. He looked in the bathroom and the guest rooms. He went to the attic, where he found sweet baby pictures, but no Buffy. He even looked in the basement where he was greeted with the unneeded sight of Pontiac eating his latest at kill. Coming back to the foyer, his fingers touched his lips as he wondered where she was.

He heard a noise outside. Approaching the window, he looked out and, vaguely, through the hedge he could see the girls getting into Willow's car. He sighed, letting the curtain fall back into place, wondering, again, where Buffy was. If she'd felt anything like he had after their fight, she wouldn't want to be alone. Of course, he'd spent the entire night touring L.A.'s bars with Clem, but Buffy... where could she go?...

A horn outside made his eyes widen as something in his mind clicked. Rushing to the dining room, from where he could see Willow's driveway better, he pulled away the curtain and watched as Buffy stepped out into the noon sun, hair pulled back tightly in a high ponytail and sunglasses on.

She hesitated, for a moment, looking around from the top of Willow's porch steps, almost as though she expected something. But then, after Willow honked her car horn again, Buffy moved towards the car.

"No..." Will whispered, his fingers tracing her shape on the glass beneath his hand. "'Lizabeth!" He ran for the door and flew out of it, sprinting to the next house to stop her from leaving.

But he was too late. The car disappeared around the corner, leaving Will alone in the driveway.

* * *

"Oh, come on, mopey girl! We came for _fun_! Remember 'fun'? It's what you do when you're out with yor friends!"

Buffy smiled. Willow, carrying a beer in one hand, was dancing wildly before her, attracting attention and people. She laughed as Willow made a particularly mad dance move, but shook her head at the same time. "Let me mope, Wills. Just a little while. I promise, when I'm done moping, I'll come and dance with you and your," She jabbed a thumb behind her shoulder, "entourage."

Willow, grinning uncontrollably, said, "You promise?"

"Yes," Buffy chuckled, "I promise."

"Okay, then," Cheerily, Willow grabbed Tara's hand and said, "Let's dance, Tara!"

"Wait, you go, I'll be there in a second." Tara freed her hand from Willow's, also smiling wide, and looked at Buffy. "Can I sit with you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and shifted on the cushiest ouch in the entire club. Tara slipped in next to her and the two watched Willow dance with a fond sparkle in their eye.

Suddenly, Tara declared, "I'm moving in with Willow." She turned to look at Buffy, waiting for her reaction.

It didn't come. Buffy, never taking her eyes off the dance floor, smiled genuinely and said, "That's excellent. What about your practice?"

"Oh, you know, the University wants me to work with them for the rest of the year and if I'm good, I'll become a professor. It's like being on probation for a job you didn't apply. I was surprised they chose me to work on this project."

Buffy looked at Tara with a light frown. "Surprised?" She echoed. "Why?"

Tara shrugged. "I'm not_ that_ good."

Buffy made a noise that sounded like something between a snort and a sigh. She said, drumming her fingers against the white trousers she wore, "You're too modest, Tara. You're an amazing psychiatrist."

"Psychologist."

"Whatever. The point is, you're really good and you should know that. Use it to your full, get everything you need. That's how you survive in today's world."

Tara looked at Buffy. "What about you?"

The drumming stopped. "What do you mean?"

"You said we should live up to our full potential. Doesn't that apply for you, too?"

"I _am_ living it up."

"Not financially, Buffy. Tell me: when was the last time you painted anything?"

Buffy was silent.

"See? This is what I mean. When'll you start painting again?"

"I have everything I need."

"Creative satisfaction?"

Buffy bit her lip. Hard. As a trickle of blood oozed down her perfectly painted lips, she stood up. "I'm going to get a drink." She declared. "Want anything?"

With a sigh, Tara stood. "No, that's okay. I'll go dance with Willow for a while."

Nodding, Buffy headed to the bar. Slipping into a high stool, she said to the counter girl, "One martini, please."

The dark-haired girl chuckled. "Sure you can handle it, Shorty?"

Frowning, Buffy looked up at the remark. "What does that mean?" She demanded.

The girl took a deep look at Buffy and nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Heartbreak." She announced, pulling out a glass and filling it with Buffy's drink. "Here you go." She handed it gently to Buffy, giving her a smile that seemed not to belong on her face: it was too honest and nice.

Buffy took a sip and watched this female bartender, who was now leaning her arms on the counter and regarding Buffy openly and interestedly. "So," Buffy said, trying not to choke on the hot liquid down her throat, "What's your name?"

The girl pointed to her chest. Buffy looked and saw a nametag. "However, since you don't have one, you'll have to say it." Faith said.

"Buffy."

Faith grinned. "Nice name, B."

Buffy smiled. "Thanks." She tuned her attention to the glass between her fingers and sighed. "Bottoms up," She muttered, putting the glass to her lips and swallowing the entire thing down.

Buffy thumped the glass back to the counter and winced. "Ew." She complained, "Who even drinks all this!"

Faith let out a loose laugh. "Sorry, B. Wasn't sure you could handle it." She looked at Buffy again in that penetrating way of hers and said, "I've got something for you to try."

Pulling out a long crystal vase, Faith poured an amber liquid into two glasses. Buffy picked hers up and sniffed it, trying to tell if it was bitter or not.

"Drink it, B. You'll love it. Trust me."

Shrugging, Buffy took a sip of the liquid and her eyes widened. "Wow!" She said. "It's sweet!"

"Mm hmm," Faith said, sipping hers, too. "It's a Mexican tequila. Very different from the usual stuff."

Buffy grinned and grabbed the glass, draining it in one go. "More!"

Faith rolled her eyes. "You're going to get all knackered out, B." But still, grinning all the way, she poured the blonde another glass and settled into her stool for another tale of heartbreak.


	28. Strings

**__**

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.  
A/N: Hate me, if you shall, but let me know what you think.

****

27. Strings

Nearly empty, now, the bar was silent and a pin could be heard dropping. People were either sleeping on the floors and couches, or they had passed out, or they were speaking softly in whispers out of some respect for the ones who slumbered. It was nearly dawn and the Friday night, 24-hour party had crashed.

On the Dead Poet's corner, Tara and Willow lay sleeping, exhausted from all the dancing and drinking. As people woke up, Faith waved at them cheerily from her place at the bar, signalling goodbye. Sheepishly, heads bowed, they started leaving.

"So, where were we?" Faith turned back to Buffy after waving at another man who seemed to have taken a liking to her.

Buffy sipped her coffee and commented, "You know, he probably won't be so interested if you, well... dressed a little less provocatively." She waved a slender hand, gesturing at her ensemble of denim shorts that ended at least two inches above where they should and her black silk bustier.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Look at the pot calling the kettle black," She teased Buffy for her pink halter which was held together by a beaded string.

Buffy grinned and said, "Yeah, well. It's like that everywhere."

Faith sighed and leaned her side over the counter. "I can't believe I talked to you all night long, B. Either you're talkative or you bring that out in others."

"I have that face, you know. The kind that makes everyone want to open up and speak to me." Buffy sipped loudly, earning a scowl from Faith. "Lucky you own this place or you'd be fired, eh, for denying them drinks."

Faith shrugged. "I guess." She traced circles on her thigh with a long, gold-painted nail. She sighed, suddenly, and asked Buffy, "Well, what're you going to do?"

Buffy turned grim at once. Her cup safe between her hands, her hands on her lap, she bit her lip. "I don't know. I-I guess he'll make the first move, so if he wants to talk..."

"You'll talk?"

Buffy thought about that. Was she really so angry with Will? Or was she more upset that he didn't trust her and was angry at her? It was too easy. "Yeah, I'll talk back."

Faith smiled. "Good girl, B. How's the Aspirin helping?"

Buffy's hand flew to her forehead where she touched her throbbing temples. "Still hurts, but the coffee helps."

Faith nodded. "You drank a lot last night." She commented, reaching over the counter to grab a couple of chocolates. "I didn't think you could hold that much."

Buffy smiled, oddly proud of herself. "Neither did I." She took the proffered candy and added, as an afterthought, "Of course, it helped that I threw up around two."

Faith laughed. "Yeah, it must have. But you still held your own, girl. Very cool."

Buffy tried to laugh but the reminder of her headache seemed like a self-fulfilling prophecy: with a vengeance, her head started hurting again.

She put her head down with a groan. Faith, tsking sympathetically, put her rough, hard hands through Buffy's golden hair and started massaging her head. Buffy let out another moan, this one of pleasure and gratitude. Faith looked around the bar with dark eyes and noticed the stirrings on the couch.

"Looks like the lovebirds are waking up." She said.

Buffy put her head up instantly. "Oh god," She muttered, looking in the direction of the Dead Poet's corner, "Tara's never partied this hard. She's going to have a fit!"

Rolling her eyes, Faith brought Buffy's head down again. "Relax, B!" She said cheerfully, making Buffy wince, "You've got plenty to worry about when you get home. Right now, just relax and take it easy... boy, you're so tense and uptight all the time!"

Buffy mumbled something into the hard countertop, too lost in the feeling of Faith's talented hands pressing against her scalp. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she realized she must have fallen asleep because the bar was virtually empty, now, just a couple of bouncers drinking their coffee and Willow and Tara beside her, chattering away to Faith. Or rather, being chattered away.

"So I told him, 'Dude, I've got mad skills!' and he looks at me and goes, 'We'll have to see' and so we fell into another round, right _there_ in the _hay_! You know, girls," Faith leaned forwards confidentially, "if you met this guy, believe me, you'd turn straight immediately. I mean, he has a huge—"

"Ahem!"

Faith looked at Buffy. "B! You're up! I was telling them the story about Wood!"

Buffy looked at Tara and Willow's ashen faces. Suppressing a smile, she said, "I think that's alright, Faith. We'll leave, now."

Tara and Willow got up too quickly for it to be an eagerness to get home. As they rushed to the couch to get their bags, Faith pulled Buffy aside. "How'd I do?" She asked in a quiet voice.

Buffy looked at Tara and Willow. She half-grinned and said, "Very well. Do you have the time?"

She looked at her watch. "Almost ten."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh, my! I gotta get home!"

As Faith hooked her thumbs through the belt hoops of her jeans, leaning back against the counter, Buffy rushed to get her coat and purse from wherever they were. Willow and Tara, near the stairs, were helping each other walk. As Faith lit up, Buffy approached, glancing at the girls.

"They're too far gone," She remarked.

Faith nodded, offering Buffy a cigarette. To Faith's surprise, and even more so Buffy's, she accepted and lit up by the flame of Faith's Zippo. "Lord, B, I corrupted you in one night!"

Buffy took a deep drag and coughed a little. "Haven't done this since freshman year in college."

"Long time."

Buffy suddenly fidgeted with her hands. "Faith..." She looked up at her new friend, eyes pleading for reassurance, "It'll be okay, right?"

Faith knew from experience that it might not be. But Buffy, at the point, needed comfort, even if it was a lie. She breathed out a ring of blue smoke and scoffed, "Well, of course. What a question to ask, B."

Buffy eased. Looking back at the couple, she said, "I don't know how we'll get home. I'm better off than those two, but I don't think I can stand the sun."

"Easy squeezy." She looked around and caught one of the bouncer's eye. Motioning him over, she said in an undertone to Buffy, "He'll drive you, but watch out for him. He comes on a little hard." Then, louder so he could hear her, "Parker, this is Buffy. You need to drop her and those two," She motioned towards the girls, "wherever they have to go. They've got a car, drive them home and then hop along to your little bunny hole. Got it?"

Parker, who so far hadn't taken his eyes off Buffy, grinned. Buffy cringed- he looked like a wolf with yellow teeth. "No problems, boss-woman."

Faith gave him a kick in the shin to direct his attention away from Buffy. Glaring at him reproachfully, she said, "Watch it, boy. I gave you this job only because—

"You're running short, yeah, yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes and gave Buffy a helpless shrug. "Can we go, now?"

Faith, with a secret look with Buffy, nodded. After a quick hug, Buffy snapped on her sunglasses and moved to help out Willow and Tara.

* * *

Will sat on the steps, one of Buffy's sweater in his hand. He had slept fitfully that way in the night, tossing and turning while the sweater rested next to him or clenched in his fingers. Half a day away from Buffy had cleared his mind and pushed down all the trivial doubts that had risen in his head.

Two days seemed unbearable.

He looked at the soft cashmere as though it held all his answers. He loved Buffy; perhaps he had from that first day when she hit him with a tennis racket. She was an amazing person and the open way that she had welcomed and accepted him into her life, after the initial discontent of course, was remarkable. He loved her for her uncertainty and her decisiveness; he loved her innocence and seduction; he loved her, which was all that mattered.

But did she really love him?

Of course, she had said the words first. But after that, he had echoed them often while she had been content to show it through her actions. Words made her uncomfortable, he knew that. But still, she knew that _he_ was a verbal person—why didn't she accept that?

And then there was this whole Angel affair. She insisted she was over him, but why did she have pictures of them in her drawer, hidden? The way she had treated his cousin, too, had been completely unfair and wrong of her. Perhaps it was her inexperience — Angel had been her first boyfriend and her longest relationship. They shared a bond he knew he couldn't: the binding ties of first love. His own, too, were somewhere else: with Cecily Addams. Of course, that had been a miserable situation, but she still held a place in his heart that nobody could take. His first few poems were about her, however bad they were, and not about Dru, nor Buffy.

Will didn't know what to make of the whole matter. All he knew was that he wanted Buffy back in his arms, right then and there.

As though someone had been listening to his thoughts and had granted him a wish, the familiar purr of Willow's car reverberated through and he rushed to the windows, pulling her soft sweater along with him.

As Will watched, Buffy, with dark glasses perched on tousled hair, squinted as she helped Tara and Willow into the house with a man he didn't know. Buffy disappeared into the house with the girls for a minute, probably to help them, and when she came out, she handed the guy a soda. They sat together on the porch seat, talking quietly. As Will watched, the man inconspicuously stretched into a yawn and, when he brought his arms down, one slipped around Buffy's shoulders.

A fierce, hot protectiveness rose in Will and before he could stop himself, he was bursting through the front door, moving in their direction.

* * *

Buffy rubbed her tired eyes. Besides her, Parker spoke of things she knew nothing of and could only nod along with. Fidgeting in her seat, Buffy tried to get a comfortable position, Parker squashed too close to her. She did not have nor the energy, nor the will to tell him to back off; impatiently did she wait for him to finish the soda so he could leave.

Buffy sighed when her purse fell to the floor after a rough fidgeting session. She bent to retrieve it and Parker used the opportunity to slip an arm around her. When she sat back up, she noticed the uncomfortable feel of his muscled arm against her slim shoulders.

That was enough. Looking up at him, Buffy asked, politely, "Parker, would you mind taking your hand off my back?"

He grinned and said, "Don't ya like it, doll?"

Buffy's lips narrowed. "It's 'Buffy', Parker, not 'doll'." She turned and moved to push his arm off her. "Off." She said, indignant, now.

He gave a laugh and pulled his arms off, raising both hands in a surrendering manner. "Okay, okay—my, you're a feisty one, aren't you? I should have—"

But Buffy never knew what Parker should have done for right then, Will ran up the porch steps and grabbed Parker by the collar of his shirt. Pulling him up to a standing position, Will snarled, "_Never_ touch my girl."

Parker, eyes widening, looked to Buffy for help. But she was too stunned by Will's actions to do anything. Only when Will twisted the collar and pulled Parker closer, rose a fist and cocked it to hit his nose, only then did she realize what was happening and quickly, standing up, she threw herself between the two.

"Will! Neanderthal much!" She yelled at her boyfriend, her hands against his chest holding him off. "Back off, Will! He's okay!"

"No, he's fucking not okay!" Will roared, struggling against Buffy's lithe form to get a good aim. "Did you see the way he was slobbering over you, or were you too flattered to care!"

Buffy, eyes widening in anger, twisted against the two hard, male bodies and braced herself against Parker. Pushing with all the might in her lissom body, she pushed him and he broke free of Will's grip, staggering back and crashing onto the post of the porch. "Go!" Buffy yelled and he didn't need to be told twice. He ran, ran as though the hounds of hell were after him, and disappeared around the corner quicker than was humanly possible.

Will, having nobody to take out his anger on, turned to Buffy and growled, "What the fuck do you think you were doing!"

Buffy, arms folded, stood her ground. "I did nothing wrong, William." Her voice was cold, unaffected by his words and Will found that, again, a source of his anger.

Laughing harshly, he backed away from her and leaned against the post. "The fuck you didn't." He shook his head disgustedly. "You like men drooling all over you, don't you? One just isn't enough for you, eh?" He flipped out a cigarette and lit up, looking at the flame.

If he had looked up, he would have seen the hurt that crossed Buffy's face. But as it was to be, he looked up to se her looking at him contemptuously. "Well, maybe I do. What right do you have you to say anything about it?"

Her answer seemed to shock him. He watched her for a long minute, wanting her to cringe guiltily under his gaze, but she held her position, chin raised in defiance, eyes narrowed in dislike, lips drawn in anger. He swallowed, not allowing her to see the effect of her words on him. "You're right. I don't. The photos of you with Tall, Dark and Forehead, a.k.a. your fiancé, hidden in your drawer certainly prove that."

And throwing his cigarette down, giving her a shake of his head in disgust, he turned on his heel and marched off the porch, into the bright sun that hurt her eyes.

Looking after the lines of his rigid back as he flung himself into his car and screeched away, Buffy allowed herself to cry. For he hadn't seen the tremble of her body when she raised her chin, nor had he noticed that her eyes were narrowed to hide her tears. He hadn't even thought that her lips were drawn tightly so as to hide their tremble: he had seen what he wanted to see.

After one full day or dry eyes, Buffy allowed herself to sink to the hard floor and cry. But strangely, her eyes felt so wet, it was as though she had never actually stopped her tears.


	29. Limits

**__**

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: I've lost quite a few of you guys, I think, with the overdramatic stunt I pulled last Friday. Oh, well: if you've reviewed, thank you so, so much. We've got two to go, so hang on and let me know what you think!

****

28. Limits

The house was etched in silence that Sunday, the whirring of the machines the only sound heard. Willow and Tara sat in separate rooms with separate people, both silent, both beaten. Both were thinking of what they wanted to say, and what, in the end, they would say.

In Buffy's room, Tara broke the silence first.

"Buffy... this is too much. You're arguing over such little things!"

Buffy, sitting on her bed with her knees drawn close and her arms wrapped around them, said plainly, "He doesn't trust me."

"You know that isn't true."

"No, Tara, I don't know what I know, now. I'm too confused." With a soft sigh, she picked up Mr. Gordo. "The only thing I'm sure of," She said to the pig, "is that this whole relationship was a mistake."

Tara looked up sharply at that. "What do you mean?"

Shrugging, Buffy hugged the pig. "I mean that I rushed into this too quickly. I was hurt and uncollected by the whole thing with Angel, and I took the first chance I got on love, without thinking of the consequences."

Tara, exasperated, said, "But, Buffy, that _is_ true love. Love that doesn't care about the consequences."

Buffy gave a wry smile. "But, Tara, that's the catch: there's always consequences."

Tara thought about this. Then, head bowed in accepted defeat, she went back to pulling off the loose threads on Buffy's bedspread. Buffy, unaffected by her victory, unaffected by anything, picked up her book, _The Fountainhead_, and read.

* * *

"Anything else you want to say, Red, while your girlfriend tries to suss out Buffy?"

Willow looked at him in irritation. "Parker is an asshole. Faith warned Buffy about him. Just because you saw him holding her – or, correction, _trying_ to hold her, considering she pushed him off – it doesn't make Buffy a slut or anything."

Will looked at her with hollow, empty eyes, devoid of even rage. "You said it, pet, not me."

Willow let out a growl of frustration. She brought down her fist, hard, and hit the wood, wincing at the pain. "Why, damn it, must you both be so stubborn!"

Will shrugged, and brought out a pack of cigarettes. He took one, lit up, and offered the pack to Willow. "Want one?"

Willow looked longingly at the Marlboros, but shook her head. "I can't cave into stress like Buffy." The words were out before she could help it.

Will, a flash passing through his eyes, smiled a smile so dry it would bring shame to the Sahara. "See what I mean? I don't know the girl. I didn't know she was engaged to my lovely cousin, didn't know she smoked; I don't know her at all." He let his hand finger, lightly, a pair of earrings of hers that he had stolen and kept in his pocket. Sighing, he said, "Been a bloody waste, these months have."

"You have a lot of time, Will, to get to know her. If you stick around, that is."

Will looked up at her sharply. "How do you know I'm leavi—" His eyes widened slightly, realizing he'd walked into a trap.

Willow didn't even look up from where she was drawing in her pudding with a finger. "I thought you were a coward." She looked up. "I was right."

Will swallowed. "Don't know what I'll do. It-it's so bloody hard, just _being_ in the same house as her. Won't help if I move countries, I think... I'll probably do the next best thing..."

Willow smiled softly. "You can't escape love."

He sighed. "I can try."

* * *

Angel gave Buffy almost a week to return his call. On Sunday morning, meeting Xander and Anya at Heathrow, he booked a seat for himself to L.A. on the next flight.

When he got back to the terminal, the couple was there and were looking for him. He spotted them right off but didn't approach them immediately. Instead, he walked to the seats where Cordelia sat, elegant in a dress grey, reading a magazine. She looked up as he approached, a soft smile spreading on her lips, and stood up with the help of his hand. Walking together, hand in hand, Cordelia leaning against Angel's side, they walked to where Anya was trying to convince Xander of something.

Xander looked up when he saw, out of the corner of his dark, warm eyes, Angel approach. Grinning overenthusiastically, he waved, "Angel, my man! Hi! How've you been? So glad you could make it!"

Anya twirled around at the sound of Angel's name. She smiled in greeting, but her sharp eyes automatically shifted from Angel to Cordelia. A thin eyebrow arched and she said, "Hey, Angel, how're you? Who's your friend?"

Xander jabbed Anya with his elbow. As Anya started arguing with Xander, Angel whispered to Cordelia, "They're like that. Lots of fight but that stems from lots of—

"Love," She completed his sentence, leaning back into his body. "I can see it."

When Anya and Xander had been engrossed in themselves for over a minute, Angel cleared is throat discreetly. Instantly, both of them looked at him and Anya blurted out, "Angel, is that your girlfriend?"

Angel and Cordelia turned red. But nobody could match Xander in blushing, at that moment. He said, "Ahn!"

"What?"

"See, this is what I mean! Angel's engaged to Buffy, that's probably his sister or something! He's engaged, Anya, you know what that means? It means he's not having—

"Um, Xander, could you stop for a second?" Angel interfered.

Xander looked at Angel as though seeing him for the first time. He blinked and said, "Sorry. Yeah, so what were you saying?"

Angel gave Cordelia a slight push forwards. "This is Cordelia Chase, guys. My fiancée."

The two minute prolonged silence that followed the statement frightened Cordelia. Anya and Xander looked at her, one pair of dark eyes shocked, the other inquisitive. Feeling the need to break the silence, she said, "H-hi, guys! I've heard a lot about you!"

That seemed to do the trick. Anya grinned and turned to face Xander. "See! I told you! Buffy's not _that_ gutless! She must have told him!" Then, turning to Cordy, she said, "I must congratulate you, Cordelia, Angel's a very fine catch..."

As Anya embarrassed Cordelia, Xander caught Angel's eye. The two men moved aside, away from the chattering women. Xander asked, the second they were out of earshot, "Well? Did she?"

"Did who what?" Angel was baffled.

"Buffy!" Xander sounded exasperated, angry and amazed all at once. "Did you get in touch with her?"

"No, I called her but no response. I'm going to L.A. tomorrow."

Xander frowned and looked at Cordelia, trying to figure something out. "But then... you don't know you're broken up and you're engaged to a woman that isn't Buffy?"

Angel's ears cocked. "What?"

Xander, reddening, reached into his pocket. "Buffy left London before we reached here," He explained, "And left this at the reception for you and us. We got it because you didn't come." He handed Angel an old, crumpled paper.

Angel read, and as his eyes swept over the words that seemed to be penned not in ink, but in stone, a great weight seemed to lift off his shoulders.

He looked up at Xander, who was looking at him apprehensively. He smiled. "Since when have you had this?"

Shrugging, Xander reached for the note. "As long as we've been in Europe."

Angel, holding the paper out of Xander's reach, said, "So... do you think almost two months is a long enough time to be broken up and get reengaged?"

Xander frowned. "You didn't know you were broken up," He accused, "You practically cheated on her!"

Angel regarded Xander with a wry look in his eyes. "Xander, Buffy and I both knew we were trying to make a doomed relationship work. Sooner or later, one of us was going to back away. She did it first. She was intelligent." He waved the note in the air, then pocketed it.

The look on Xander's face was priceless. As Angel turned his back onto Buffy's friend, a part of him was glad to also be turning his back completely, wholly onto a future he had once wished desperately for. He looked at Cordelia with a morbid sort of excitement that stems from deep rooted guilt.

But not for long, he vowed to himself. Cordelia turned half towards him, muted eyes widened as a silent plea for help.

__

Not for long, Cordy. I'll get rid of the guilt, soon.

* * *

Giles sat on his desk, going over papers while ordering his housekeeper to make a great dinner for his nephew, who was bringing his fiancée home for the first time. When the woman, with a curt nod, left, he gave her a minute for the sounds of high heels on wooden floors to recede before he threw back his files and, without any pretence of working, leaned back in his chair.

It had been too long since a boy of the family came home with his girl.

Will used to do it all the time; all through high school, Giles had lost track of how many times he had been introduced to a girl who Will had sworn would be his daughter in law. But then, when Will entered Cambridge, and moved three hours away from London. And he met Drusilla. Which marked the end of Giles' part in William's life.

But even if Will had pulled himself away, at least he knew what Will was doing, who he was seeing. And, of course, there was Liam, his sister's son, the second of the heirs to the company he ran mostly b himself, now.

His sister, Margaret, had moved away from London after her husband had died. Liam, who had been about ten at the time, had not minded. Liam and Will had been rivals from the beginning and the distance of an ocean didn't put any stop to it. Will did extraordinarily well in high school, unexpected because his mind certainly wasn't on Karen Heath's notes. He'd skipped a grade in middle school so when he went to Cambridge, he was the youngest boy there.

And the brightest. Will wanted to be a creative representative, as he felt his father's firm lacked in that department. It'd work out well as in the States; Liam was planning on corporate law.

But then an unpredicted streak of independence hit Liam. He refused to join Giles & Spencer – he started working for Wolfram & Hart. Giles felt crushed – a whole branch was to be put under Liam. They had denied so many people for the job! And at that moment, Will stepped in, in a martyr complex that was most unlike him, and took over Liam's work.

At times, when he had perhaps had a little too much to drink, Will would curse and berate Liam for ruining his life. But that wasn't often – Will had taken a decision, seen how happy it made his father and his girlfriend, and he had decided that his decision was good. Liam hadn't much of a say.

Giles closed his eyes. A low sigh escaped him. Just then, the phone rang. He sat up, frowning at it as he would at one of his old, treacherous friends, Ethan Rayne. Picking it up, he said, "Hello?"

"Dad?"

Relief, hesitation, and a bittersweet happiness filled Giles. "Hello, William."

"Dad."

Will was hesitating, Giles could feel it. His brow furrowed. "What is it, my boy?"

"Dad," His voice sounded hollow, now, and Giles was worried. But then Will said, "Has someone filled in for me in New York, yet?"

And to Giles, the sound of Will's voice was like homecoming.

* * *

Early the next day, Buffy sat on the steps of her back porch, arms around her legs, chin on her knees. She watched in silence as the sun rose; the lightest shade of pink appeared at the edge of the horizon.

Will watched her from behind the screen door of the kitchen, knowing in his heart he had made a decision he would regret. But he needed space... _I'll be back_, he reassured himself. _There's no way I can leave now. Not forever._

Just then, a taxi honked outside.

Buffy turned around, instinctively, to locate the source of the sound. She saw Will standing at the closed door. Regarding him with shadowed eyes, she looked at him, hazel eyes burning holes in his skin, making him guilty when there was nothing to feel so about.

He swallowed. "I-I'm going to New York to do some finalizing with my work. I'll be back in a week or so."

She said nothing.

Will looked at his shoes, then back at her. "I..." He sighed. "I'm sorry to be leaving like this, kitten, but it's sort of urgent. I'll come back though... really, soon, you know..."

Their eyes met. Will felt a shudder go through him at the deepness of the chasm that was between them. She started to say something when the horn sounded again. She stopped.

He gulped. "I have to get going..." He turned half-heartedly towards the kitchen, then back to her again. "Bye, pet." The whispered word was echoed in the stretch of silence that lay between them.

And then, Will turned and walked out of the house, knowing fully well he was leaving behind every reason to live with it.


	30. The Replacement

****

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. The name of the chapter, too, belongs to them..

A/N: Now I'm depressed. I don't want my first to end: But still, let me know what you think.

29. The Replacement

Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. The name of the chapter, too, belongs to them.. 

"Business is slow, eh?"

Faith grinned, wiping a glass. "Monday night, B; always slow."

Buffy gave a slight nod, her chin bobbing against the counter where it rested. She said nothing in return.

Faith sighed and put down the cloth and the glass. "Buffy... what's the matter, girl? What's wrong?"

Buffy closed her eyes. "Nothing," She said in a choked voice. "You know."

"B," Faith said angrily, "That man is mad to have left you, and you know it. Don't you worry, though, he'll be back, his tail between his legs, soon, girl, and you'll be able to kick him off your feet like—

"Faith. Calm down. He's not coming back. I know, and it's okay." The resignation in Buffy's voice shocked Faith. Buffy sat up and pulled out her wallet. Putting down a ten dollar note, she said, "I'd better go home before it's too late. Thanks, Faith."

As she turned to leave, Faith leaned over and grabbed her arm. Buffy turned. Faith looked at the slim blonde girl, taking in the eyes red from lack of sleep, circled darkly, her crumpled clothes and pale appearance. A line of determination set her mouth and she told Buffy, "Don't let a man bring you down to this, Buffy. Don't let him be your downfall."

Buffy gazed at her friend for a moment. Then, with a broken smile, she said, "Faith... I brought myself down to this."

* * *

Buffy came home late, even though she'd left the bar early. It didn't matter, however... she didn't have anything waiting for her at home. 

When she pulled into her driveway, the black, empty DeSoto stung her eyes. She looked away from it and stepped out of her car, eyes towards Willow's house so that she could see shelter. But out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw that her living room was lit and something, someone was moving at the curtains.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Immediately, though her mind stopped functioning, she moved for the porch. Her heart seemed to have taken over the job of the mind and was joined with her instinct in agreement that Will was back. She ran up the porch steps, one hand in her jacket pocket, the other reaching out for the door. Just when she was going to thrust in her key, the door opened. Her heart swelled.

And fell.

"Angel." She whispered, her voice hollow in the night.

Angel's smile seemed warm, grim and glad at the same time. "Hey, Buffy."

* * *

For the sixth time that night, Will picked up the phone, dialled a number, then put it off. He hadn't slept all night, preferring to sit by the window of his suite and watch the New York drizzle echo his mood. He sighed, fingers splayed across the glass. He was damned to think he had needed this. 

His hand flew to the breast pocket of his coat. He was dressed for a meeting that would happen at ten AM, seven hours from then. He pulled out the delicate earring, whose mate lay on a dresser in L.A. The silver mocked him with its sparkle, telling him he had nothing to sparkle for now. Will put the earring away.

His eyes fled to the phone. Biting his lip, he made a decision. Reaching out for it, Will dialled the number he had memorized, now, and his fingers tightened instinctively around the arm of his chair. The ring went once, twice, thrice...

He heard her voice. _Hi, you've reached the residence of Anya Jenkins and Buffy Summers. _His heart gave a pang. The answering machine. He should hang up... _We aren't here right now, so please leave a message after the—_

Buffy's recorded voice was cut off, suddenly, and a deep, male voice said, "Hello?" 

Will's eyes widened. He dropped the phone.

* * *

Angel and Buffy sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, both looking at the glasses in their hands. Buffy was trying to analyze herself – was she glad he was here? Was he there, like always, to offer her an escape? She knew nothing, just this: she missed Will. 

Angel looked at the lines of his fist closed around the cup holding his coffee. A part of him was singing, being so close to Buffy. Another cried for Cordelia. As always, he was split, wondering what to do and where to go. But he knew, now, was surer. But right now, Buffy needed his help, he felt it in his the part of his heart that was still connected to hers... but what for? And where the heck was William...

He looked up. She had been staring at him. His eyes met hers, and she didn't look away. Angel wondered what had happened to the timid girl he had bumped into one day at school. The woman before him gave off the waves of one wholly independent, and in that independence, confident of herself and her abilities.

But only gave the waves. She looked a mess, crumpled jeans and wrinkled shirt, hair that lay flatly on her shoulders in tangles as though the life had been pulled out of them. As though the life had been pulled out of her.

And that's when he knew. He knew what had happened, without her saying a word. It was their old bond that stirred up, now, and he automatically put down his coffee and had walked around the table in two strides. He sat down next to her and took the cup from her trembling hands. He put it down next to his cup and pulled her towards him, enveloping her in a hug that was nothing but comforting. "Oh, Buffy..." He whispered, "It'll be okay, sweetie, you'll see..."

And in the arms of the lover she had rejected, Buffy allowed herself to cry for the first time that day. She cried for herself, for Will, for Angel. He held her until she had calmed, rubbing her back soothingly, whispering comforting words into her hair. After what seemed like hours, her sobs ceased and she fell asleep in Angel's arms.

She woke to find him gone.

Buffy sat up on the couch, looking around disconcertedly, while her mind wondered who she was looking for. Her heart seemed to know what it wanted, though, judging from the twinge it gave when Angel came ambling down the stairs.

"Oh," He said, a slight smile on his lips, "You're up?"

Buffy nodded, pulling her legs towards her body so she could loop her arms around them. Angel came to sit besides her. They sat in silence, the early light that was a mix of pink and golden flooding the living room around them. Angel picked at a thread on his trousers; Buffy surveyed the room and noticed his suitcases and bags. She couldn't resist asking, "When did you arrive?" She winced at the dryness of her voice that broke the silence.

Angel gave an easy shrug and leaned back. "Around eight last night. You were out."

She nodded, still looking at the carpet. "Yeah, I had... work to do."

"No you didn't." Buffy frowned and looked back at him. He was looking at her, a wry smile on his face. His tone was neither accusing nor demanding, just matter-of-fact. "I called the gallery and Harmony said you hadn't been in for almost two weeks, now."

She blushed at his catching her lie. "Fine," She said, looking at her toes, now. "I went to a bar. Happy?"

Angel gave a low chuckle. "That's okay, nothing to be ashamed of. If my asshole of a cousin has left you, you deserved a night out."

Buffy's throat tightened at the mention of Will. Her hands tightened around her knees and she forced herself to repel the tears that welled up. Instead, she asked Angel, through a choked throat, "H-How did you know I was in L.A.?"

She could feel his shrug. God, she used to hate him shrugging so much... "I wanted to get in touch with you when Xander told me you'd never arrived at London. I called the gallery from Rome; Harmony told me you were here. Oh she also told me you were dating one William Giles."

Buffy's eyes narrowed at her feet. Harmony! Boy, that girl was going down... But her mind changes tracks suddenly. Xander had arrived before Angel, so technically, Xander should have got the note. Had Xander told Angel that... "Angel," She croaked suddenly, "Did... did you get my note?" She looked at him to catch his expression.

His face was carefully blank. He put a hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that she had written her decision on. "You mean this?"

Her temples throbbed, her heart hurt with guilt. "Angel..." She whispered, looking at him pleadingly, "I'm so sorry..."

He smiled, then. "I got this just yesterday when I met up with Xander." He told her.

She swallowed. "Th-then... then you must have thought I was cheating on you when Harmony told you—"

Angel was shaking his head. When he looked up, she saw guilt in his eyes, too. What for, she couldn't understand. Until he said... "Buffy," His voice cracked, "Whatever you did, you did it thinking I knew we were broken up. But I'm the one who should be sorry..." He swallowed. "Buff, you know why I took so long coming back from Rome?" Without waiting for an answer, he rushed on, "I met someone, Buffy, in Rome. H-her name is Cordelia Chase. I've..." He sighed, knowing this would be hard for everyone involved in this affair, but knowing he had to say it anyway. "I've been with her all this time. I'm engaged to her, even though I thought the two of us were still together." He said this in a quiet voice, looking at his hands all the time. He looked up, now, and said, "You have nothing to worry about, Buffy. I'm the one who wrecked our relationship."

Buffy's face was white. Angel summoned to courage to look into her eyes and there he saw betrayal, hurt, pain, anger and... relief? Buffy was silent for the longest time. Angel felt every second that passed took away bit by bit of his being with it, but he didn't drop his eyes.

When she spoke to break the silence, Angel didn't know whether he would burst from relief or apprehension. She said, "Don't take the credit, Angel, for that. We were trying to save something beautiful from breaking ever since we met again.".

Her words hit Angel like rain, bringing a numb cold and release. Her voice was flat, but her eyes were bright with the spark of freedom

"I should have made sure you got the note. I guess I was trying to make things easier for myself so I could justify myself later when the time came. But now, the time is here and all I can tell you is that I am as much to blame as you." She was smiling the smallest smile, now, looking at the sun that rose over his shoulder. "But there is one thing, Angel, that I'm sure of, now, in this madness that is around me right now: I made the right decision in breaking things off with you." She looked back at him, the smile growing. She held out her hand and he took it, amazed at how small it was in his. "You think so too, you made the same choice, you knew what I did. And because of what you, what we did, Angel... we're free. Of each other, and the obligations that came with us." She smiled at him. "We're free."

* * *

Will touched the warm, honey coloured walls. This apartment gave off an aura of warmth; he wondered why its owner was leaving it. It was beautiful, comfortable, spacey. But then, everyone had their reasons... and, of course, he should be thankful that after almost a month of apartment searching, he had got this place on Fifth Avenue. He looked down at the city beneath his feet from the glass windows, making a decision. 

He turned around to look at the broker. "Mr Webster," He said to the man with dark, wavy hair, "I love it," He announced, "And I want it."

Holden Webster grinned. "Great!" He said, "I thought you might not see how lovely this apartment is, considering how much it's cluttered right now, but I guess I underestimated you, Mr. Giles. You'll love this house. There are so may people who want it, but..." Webster trailed off, realizing he had let something slip.

Will picked up his uneasiness. "But what?"

The slight sag of his shoulders gave Webster away. "Well, Mr Giles," He said, "The owner will only give it to someone who she likes, you know. She understandably loves this house very much, you know, and wants to give it to someone who will take care of it."

Will frowned. Another hindrance... seemed like the whole world was out to get him. Ever since he'd made the decision to take back his control over Giles & Spencer's New York branch, hurdle after hurdle had pounced into his way, making life harder for him. First, the man who was managing things in his place refused to budge for his boss. After getting rid of the obnoxious man, he realized that over half his clients had left – they refused to work without Mr. Giles. When he had convinced those on the verge to taking their cases to Wolfram & Hart to do the opposite, Will realized he couldn't stay at the Plaza forever – he needed an apartment. And with all his furniture having moved halfway around the country, from New York to San Francisco, from San Francisco to L.A., he knew if he ever managed to get it back, it would be in terrible shape. So, he bought new furniture, then realized he needed an apartment, first. And after weeks and weeks, floors and floors, he had found this place he loved.

For which, apparently, he needed to go through an interview with its owner, Mrs. Abbott.

He sighed. Webster smiled helplessly, his heart thudding with hope that he wouldn't lose this commission. Will started to say something when Webster's phone buzzed. Holding up his file, Webster said, apologetically, "One moment, Mr. Giles, just one moment..." He looked at who was calling and something about the caller made him smile. Hitting the 'Talk' button, he said, "Hello?"

Will tuned him out and went back to the glass. The ground, twelve feet below him, was crowded with cars, cabs, buses and people. He liked New York – it was easy to get lost in the crowd, here.

He heard, through the shrieking of his mind, Webster calling him. He turned. Holden Webster was smiling. "She's coming right now, Mr. Giles; she was in the neighbourhood."

A mix of relief and a foreboding of the finality of his detachment with L.A. spread through Will. He nodded, and started pacing while Webster sank onto the couch, whose cushions had been put away, and picked up a book on psychology that lay on the floor.

After a few rounds of the living room, Will realized that sitting still might be better for his legs. Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch as Webster, he leaned over the arm and started going through the pile of books kept there. A classic caught his eye; he picked up Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, an old, old book that was falling apart and flipped through it, making sure the full book was there. He was going to start reading it when a name, written neatly in black, on the upper right corner of the first page caught his eye. He flipped back to it and his stomach dropped.

Buffy Summers.His eyes scanned the letters of her name, and he felt the ink on the yellowing page, making sure he wasn't seeing things. But no; he hadn't thought of her for weeks, he hadn't wanted to think of her, so why would be imagine things, now...

The trembling fingers flew from the letters to his lips; he kissed her name. And it was fitting that at that moment, the door unlocked and Tara McClay walked in.

"Ms. McClay!" Webster threw the book away and stood, moving to meet the blonde who hadn't seen them yet. "Mr. Giles and I thought we'd die of the wait!"

Tara smiled, pulling off her coat. "Well, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Holden, and Mr. Giles..." Her eyes moved to the couch, where Will was still sitting, book open on his lap and his hand to his mouth, eyes on her. She froze, eyes widening. "Will."

* * *

Minutes later, Holden Webster sat confusedly on the cushion-less couch as Tara and Will stood in the balcony, in spite of the cold and the drizzle, and talked. 

"I didn't know you were Mrs. Abbott." Will said, looking down at the city, again.

She smiled, though he didn't see it. "That's my grandmother, Will. She technically owns the apartment, but I do all her legal work and I live here."

He smiled, too. "Correction, luv," He said, "Lived here."

Tara blushed. "I'm so glad I got the job in L.A." She told him softly. "That one week I had to stay away from Willow drove me mad. When I got the job and she asked me to move in..." Tara sighed. "It was amazing."

"I'm glad, pet, that it worked out for you two." His words were genuine enough, but his brow was furrowed.

Tara looked at him. "You don't look happy." She commented.

Will seemed to break out of a reverie; he shook his head and smiled. "I'm happy, Glinda, just have trouble expressing myself these days..."

Tara said, never taking her eyes off his face, "As does Buffy."

Automatically, his face hardened.

She smiled sadly. "I knew it," Her voice was so soft he could hardly hear.

"What did you know, pet?" Will spoke emotionlessly, his voice flat.

She didn't say anything, just looked out at the city. "I loved New York," She said, "I got lost in its streets." She reached sideways and took his hand. "I love L.A. more, because I don't want to get lost there. And I don't. I have a home, now."

Will looked at their joined hands. Suppressing his words, he said, "Will you sell me the house?"

Tara seemed crestfallen. Slowly, she let go of his hand and took one step back. "If you want it, Will, I won't stop you."

She started walking back towards the glass doors. Just when she was going to go in, she said, "Oh, by the way, Will, are you going to the wedding?"A/N: Very long chapter. Please review.


	31. You and Me

****

The Road Home  
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: Last chapter. I'm going to say, here, that I owe finishing this story to everyone who reviewed. Honestly, I was just planning to put up, like, the first few chapters and forget all about it. I kinda did, too; put up a few chapters and then I went on a long break. But you reviewed, and I wrote. So, thank you SOOOOOOOO much for reviewing: I loved 'em all. Finally, I know this is the last chapter but still, please let me know what you think, not just of this one chapter but the entire story.

30. You and I

Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. 

Beautiful.

There was, simply, no other word for it. Beautiful. The word reverberated in Buffy's head as she looked into the mirror.

The white of her dress accentuated her tan to golden splendour. It was a thin strapped corset of lace that clung so tightly to her curves that she could hardly breathe and flared out at her hips to a full skirt. Her hair, shining silk, was an intricate mass of curls at the top of her head, pearls woven gently through the strands.

. Thin strands of silver, barely visible, held up her dress and a thread of white gold wove through the many piercings of her ears and came to rest in balls just above her shoulders. A similar thread encircled her tiny waist, making it seem even tinier, held up by delicate strands of silk on her dress on either sides. Her neck was bare, her collar bones doing their job best when nude

Beautiful.

Buffy held up, after a long, long pause, the brush she held in her hand. The softest smile spread across her lips and she turned her back to the image and started spreading the silver highlighter to Cordelia's eyelid, just beneath her eyebrows.

"You look beautiful," She told the young bride who looked stunned at seeing herself. Buffy made her tear her eyes away from the mirror and the two shared the conniving smile two women who know their man through and through share. "Angel's going to faint."

Cordelia laughed and enveloped Buffy in a hug. "God," She said through laughs, "I hope not! I _really _want to get married!" She quietened and looked back at herself, pulling away from Buffy. Sighing, she added," Thank you, Buffy, for helping us out so much..." She turned back to the slight blonde, her expression serious. Buffy saw that her eyes were sparkling. As she started to think of the makeup, Cordelia said, "I don't know if I could have done so much for my ex, you know. And the way you've done it, with so much care and love..." Cordy sniffed, "I-I feel as though you took my sister's place – of course, I never had a sister, but—"

"Cordelia!" Buffy broke in, worried. "Don't cry! You'll ruin the makeup!"

Cordelia froze and looked at Buffy, surprised. Then she smiled and Buffy followed and soon, the huge dressing room was echoing the laugh of young happiness.

* * *

Moments later, Buffy slipped out of Cordy's dressing room and found Tara and Willow bickering about something as they stood outside Anya's room. She walked up to them, saying, "Hey, girls. How's it going?" But they didn't reply. Heck, they didn't even seem to be paying attention to her. 

"No, Tara, I can't! You know how irritating she gets..." Willow changed her voice in a remarkable imitation of Anya's and said, "'No, Willow, tighten the laces at the bottom, my breasts aren't high enough!' Or she'll tell me, 'Can't you loosen the upper laces, Willow? It's a very simple job, you know; oh, haven't you ever worn this sort of dress before?' I swear, Tara, you send me in there one more time and I'll murder her! You'll have to answer to Xander, okay!"

"Willow," Tara looked mildly irritated, "She's known you for longer; I'm not going to go in, now."

Willow realized she wasn't going to get her way, so she put on a pleading face. "Tara," She whined, "Please!"

Tara seemed firm. "No. Anya is getting too hyper for me." That was when they noticed Buffy. "Hey, Buffy! Is Cordelia ready?"

As Willow cursed Tara under her breath for changing the subject, Buffy grinned. "She's ready, just taking a nap."

Tara frowned. "In her dress?"

"Sitting nap. Poor girl seems really wiped out, you know."

Willow snorted, slightly derisive. "I don't see why, though. She hasn't done a lot for the wedding, now has she? Buffy's done most of it. _She's_ the one who deserves the rest, not our lovely Ice Queen. Especially after that whole thing with Will – what did we see in the guy, anyway? He's such an--

Willow broke off when the smile disappeared from Buffy's face. She bit her lip and looked at Tara, eyes narrowed to say 'oops'. Tara shook her head towards the door and Willow, after giving Buffy's hand an awkward pat, disappeared into the door behind them.

The door opened and briefly, just briefly, Anya's hysterical yells filled the corridor. It was enough to make Buffy look up from her examination of her stilettos with a smile. "I'm glad I got Cordy." She told Tara, teasingly.

Tara sighed, relief and exasperation mixed together. "I'll be so happy when this double wedding is over," She said, reaching for Buffy's hand as they set off down the hallway. "I feel as though I haven't slept in ages!"

"I know the feeling," Buffy said quietly. "It'll be over in a few hours, though." She winced as someone opened Anya's door again and the shrill voice hurt her tired ears. "I hope."

* * *

Will smiled when he entered the church. It was decorated exquisitely; just the kind he'd like for his own wedding. If, that is, he ever got married. 

White and light yellow candles hung from the stained glass ceiling. A similar arrangement of white and yellow orchids and lilies adorned the sides of every pew, lining the aisle up to the altar with a dim, graceful smell. The altar itself was a thing of beauty; they had managed to make an archway of yellow and white flowers; lilies, roses, orchids with candles woven safely amongst them, shining beautifully.

He sank into the last pew, shrugging off his jean overcoat and draping it over one arm. He brought up one leg to rest it against his other knee and leaned back his head, eyes closed. He inhaled the smell of burning candles, vanilla, flowers – his mind floated away to the girl in L.A. who wasn't attending the wedding because of her schedule.

He didn't know whether he was glad about what Tara had told him or if, secretly, he had been wishing to see her once again. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. _She_ didn't matter to him anymore.

He tried.

He couldn't do it.

The slight weight of her earring against his chest, where it always had been for the past months, seemed to multiply hundredfold, suddenly, and he couldn't breathe as he thought of her hands in his hair, her body beneath his, her lips pliant when against his. He could feel the silk of her skin, the brilliant sparkle of her hazel eyes, the jasmine and clove sent she left on everything she touched...

He was yanked out of his thoughts by, amazingly, none other than his father.

"William!"

Will opened his eyes and sat up, looking around for an escape route and not his father. He was closest to the exit so he got up and tried moving surreptitiously towards the huge gothic doors. But before he could make it out, a strong arm grabbed his and whirled him about.

"William, my son! What a surprise, seeing you here! I didn't know you were attending!" Giles grabbed his shoulders and beamed at his son. "I must say, Will, this is very unlike you... you're finally becoming a family man!"

"Yeah, Da," Will winced and pried Giles' hands away from his shoulders. "Thanks."

Giles didn't stop beaming. "Are you coming to the reception later?"

Will nodded, his eyes on the two winding stairways immediately on either side of the entrance doors. The banisters were lined with candles, and in the dim light of the single chandelier in the foyer, the marble steps sparkled like water when the moon shines upon it.

Giles noticed the direction of his son's gaze and looked, too. Nodding appreciatively, he said, "I must say, Liam has hired an extremely classy person for the decoration."

Will nodded absently before the words registered. It hit him like a punch to the gut. Swallowing, he stuttered, "Wh-what?"

Giles nodded. "Classy, and very elegant. Who was it that... hm," Giles looked thoughtful, "I can't remember who was it... oh, yes!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "Elizabeth something, yes, she was the one who—"

"Dad," Will interrupted his father, uncaring of how disapproving Giles was of it. He had visibly paled, now, and his voice was worried so Giles let him speak. "Th-this is Liam's wedding?"

Giles frowned. "Of course. Weren't you invited for it?" Then understanding dawned on his face and he sighed. "Oh. You didn't come for Liam's wedding, did you? You came for Alexander and Anya's." He shook his head. "I wondered where you got the sudden upsurge of affection for your cousin, but you came for someone else's wedding..."

"Yes," Will sounded desperate, "I'm kind of sure it was today..."

"It is," Giles reassured his son, "It's a double wedding. Lovely planning, I must say, that Elizab—"

"Yes, she's amazing, I get it." Will swallowed and looked around while his dad tried to figure out why, exactly, his son was suddenly so uptight. "D-dad... I have to go find someone. I'll see you around."

And he left Giles confused and worried.

* * *

He lied. 

Will didn't go to find anyone; he went to find a coffee, or a beer or a back exit. After roaming around in the back of the church for a while making painstakingly sure he never peeked into any of the rooms where the men were dressing or drinking, he found a side door that, hopefully, led outside. He looked up and down the hallway to make sure nobody he knew was watching, and slipped out.

The setting sun was ephemerally bright on his face before it disappeared behind cloud. Bringing his gaze back down, Will noticed he was standing in a sort of garden. A table laden with coffee and snacks stood before him and, gratefully, he grabbed a cappuccino before looking around to see where the exit was.

A lot of the wedding party was here. Will heard the sound of feminine laughs and, for a moment, his heart skipped a beat, hoping – no, fearing, that Buffy would be there. But then he realized that the bride was probably inside, upstairs, waiting for her call...

Bitterly, Will downed his hot coffee in one go, uncaring of how he burned his mouth in the process, and threw the cup into a nearby wastebasket. It was when he was shrugging on his coat and tracing, mentally, a route between the bodies to the side gate that a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

Will whirled around on instinct, but an instinct quicker than that had already identified the smell of jasmine. It was because of that second instinct that he felt disheartened – why, though? – when he saw Tara looking up at him.

"You came!" She sounded genuinely happy, reaching out with one arm and enveloping him in a half-hug. "I didn't think you would!"

"I kind of wonder why I did, now, pet," He told her, not very warmly, when they pulled apart.

Tara looked puzzled as she sipped her own coffee. "What do you mean?"

His lips narrowed into a thin line. "'Buffy won't be there', you'd told me, Glinda, and I come here to see ol' Rupert telling me it's Liam's wedding!" He sounded angry, hurt and very distressed.

With a frown, now, Tara tilted her head to look at him. "So..."

Will looked at her in utter shock. "So?" He echoed. "So?" Will shook his head, in disgust and disbelief. "I didn't think you'd hit so low, Glinda, really..."

The frown gracing Tara's brow deepened before it disappeared. A slow smile of comprehension dawned and she hid it behind her cup. "I'm sorry, Will, but I guess that's the way it is."

Will looked at her for a minute, staring at her but not quite seeing her at the same time. Then he shook his head and said, "'m going, Tara. See you around."

As he walked away, she yelled out, "Will you be at the reception?"

He pretended not to hear.

He had marched all the way to the small gate in the wall of the London church when he realized that he had, like the prat that he was, left his keys on the pew where he'd sat.

Immediately, a long string of curses that would make a sailor red escaped him and he, again, furtively sneaked back into the church. He knew, now, where Tara and her gang was so he deliberately look the longer route and entered the basilica from the front doors.

Luckily, nobody was sitting on the pew where he'd been sitting. He looked around and grabbed the keys that were lying on the ground. Turning around to go back out, Will froze and gave the cathedral one last look.

Xander was standing at the altar, now, with a short man whose blue hair made him stand out. They were deep in conversation and, as he watched, Willow walked up to Xander and fixed his tie and brushed back a lock of gelled hair. Xander seemed nervous as he sank onto the chair the small man had pulled out for him. Willow shared a good laugh with the man with the blue hair behind Xander's back. It made Will smile.

Suddenly, he realized that Xander was probably there because it was almost time for the wedding. Not wanting to witness Liam take his place at the altar to wait for Buffy, he turned around and walked out.

This time, he'd almost put his foot on the first step when the fragrance floated back to him, more intense than when it came from Tara. He froze involuntarily and listened; he could hear her laugh, her voice, her footsteps anywhere in a crowd. He listened hard, head held tight, hoping, surprisingly, to catch a glimpse of her before she became... _his._

His ears didn't disappoint him. He heard her laugh, her voice and her footsteps. Slowly, he turned around, hoping against hope she wouldn't see him. His eyes didn't need to search for her. They found her instantly, and a part of him he didn't realize was gone came back to him.

She was descending the staircase on the left with a man he didn't know. But that didn't matter. In the light of the foyer, the caramel silk dress she wore moved sensuously over her body like light. Her hair, piled with expert carelessness on the top of her head, let loose a few strands that framed her face. Eyes sketched in gold, the green looked brighter than ever, even from this far away. She carried herself with an elegance he knew she possessed, but hadn't seen on full blast till then.

She owned the entire stairway as she moved down it, though for the life of him he couldn't understand why; the wedding march had yet to play. When she approached the landing, the dark haired man she was with jumped ahead and held out his hand. She took it, and laughed at something he said. Will smiled, in spite of himself, at her happiness.

He noticed, suddenly, that she was about to turn around. Moving like lightning, he turned and disappeared down the steps.

All that Buffy saw when she turned around was a hint of silver hair that disappeared before her eyes. Devon noticed her gaze and asked, "Was he there?"

Buffy shrugged honestly. "I'm not sure," She told him softly, "But I know that he'll come back."

* * *

From where she stood in the balcony, Buffy had a vantage point of the entire party. On the high table, her chair between Angel and Xander sat, lonely without the petite blonde. But nobody missed her much, because everyone was mostly on the dance floor, waltzing to Bob Dylan's _To Make You Feel My Love._ Closing her eyes against the soft wind, she let the lyrics float up and caress her as she shivered in her sleeveless gold dress. 

_"When the rain is blowing in your face..."_

She'd never danced in the rain with Will. She looked up at the treacherous looking clouds, asking silently if it would rain, and if he would be there when it did.

_"And the whole world is on your case..."_

It was one of her favourite songs. She sang softly under her breath, now, the evening comprising of just her and the music. 

_"I could offer you a warm embrace..."_

A hand slipped gently around her waist and she looked up, surprised, at Angel. He smiled and sang the last line. 

_"To make you feel my love."_

I love that song," She sighed, allowing him to hold her. 

"Me too." He looked over the banister at his uncle's huge farm where his reception was being held. "Come down to dance?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine over here, thanks. People watching, you know. Plus, Devon's going to come back any minute with Oz, now." Upon Angel's quizzical look, she grinned sheepishly and said, "We're going to play cards."

A chortle escaped Angel and he kissed, softly, the top of her golden head. "I won't force you," He said quietly, "But we'll be doing the speeches and the toasts, soon, so... at least be downstairs for that?"

Buffy smiled. "Okay."

He tightened his grip around her for a second. Then, just as he started to pull away, he turned back to Buffy and said, "Buffy... I have to say, thank you for helping me plan this wedding... these weddings, rather, so well. Everything has gone off perfectly. Thanks to you."

She continued smiling. "Least I could do, Angel. Consider it my wedding gist to you and Cordy." Leaning forwards, she added in a low voice, "Tell Cordelia I need that necklace back, by the way. It was just for show."

Angel laughed and she laughed with him. "Sure," He said, "I will." They looked back down at the dancing couples and he asked her, "Sure you don't want to dance?"

She shook her head gently. Her hairdo was falling apart, now, with the wind and all the work she'd been doing. Another curl fell across her forehead. "I don't want to turn you down, Angel, but I have to. You know that."

He nodded gently. "I do." Slowly, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Smiling, he said, "Thank you, Buffy. For... everything."

He gently pushed away one of her curls and then turned and walked back down to his waiting wife. Buffy turned back to her song, and the wind, and the clouds.

Faintly, she sang, _"I know you haven't made your mind up, yet; But I would never do you wrong. I knew it from the moment that we met; No doubt in my mind that we belo—"_ She froze, suddenly, when she heard footsteps and she knew, automatically, that it was him.

She turned around and there he was. He was standing in the shadows, wearing black, obviously trying to melt into the background. But his hair shone silver in the moonlight and she smiled.

"Did anyone tell you your hair is radioactively coloured?"

His chuckle floated out to her as he stepped up next to her. "Nah, just you."

She laughed as he came to lean next to her. The silence that stretched was not a very comfortable one, but Buffy found it manageable. She'd felt he'd come tonight, and he had... something told her everything would be alright. "How've you been?" She broke the silence.

He didn't look at her. "Been better."

She nodded in agreement, before realizing he didn't see it. "Me, too."

He turned to look at her at that and all she could make of his face was his liquid gaze. "Really?" His tone was guardedly expressionless. "You seem to be doing fine."

"I'm fine," She assured him, "But I've been better."

He let out a short breath in amusement at that. They were looking out at the dancing couples when, suddenly, he grabbed her hand.

She pretended not to feel the jolts of heat that spread through her body at his touch. Swallowing down her desire, her love, she asked, "Y-yeah?"

"I have something of yours." He said softly. Buffy noticed he wasn't looking at her, but rather at her left hand, the hand he'd grabbed. A frown was spreading across his features, clearly visible in the moonlight. When he had spent enough minutes staring at – she was sure about this – the absence of a ring on her ring finger, he said, "Hm, yeah, here you go." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, shiny ornament.

Placing the earring in her hand, Will looked up at her expression. A knowing smile spread across her face. She said, "Thank you." She looked at him, something amused in her eyes. "And I have something to show you." Reaching for the chain she wore around her neck, Buffy pulled it out from where it rested in the depths of her dress and held it out for his inspection. "There you go."

Will squinted at it. And looked back at the earring she held on her open palm. His eyebrows went up questioningly. "You're wearing its pair?" His voice sounded surprised, somehow.

"Around my neck, yeah. I'd look mighty weird wearing one earring only, after all." She smiled as she hooked the mate of her silver earring onto her chain, her eyes never leaving his.

Will swallowed. He had a million questions to ask her, another million to tell. But before he could say anything, the music flickered off and the sound of a mike crackling was heard. They broke their gaze to look down at where Angel stood on the dais with Xander, Anya and Cordy, saying something. With great effort, the two paid attention.

"No love story, after all, is made of two people. There's always more who help those two. But in the end, when you get down to the basics, there is only two. There should be only two." They'd missed some of it. As Will wondered, with a frown, why Angel was holding the brunette's hand, Buffy enjoyed Will's expression of utter confusion.

Perhaps, she hoped, Angel will make it clear...He did.

"But in our story, in Cordelia and my story, there's another person who just can't be left out. I'm sure," He addressed the guests, "Some of you remember how almost five months ago you had been told of my wedding to Buffy Summers. But that didn't work out. I'm sure you all figured that out, seeing me here with Cordelia," A few laughs at that, "But we can't forget Buffy. She gave me, in a way, the courage to do what I felt was right, even if it was to break off with her. She's agreed with me every time I've needed it, and agreed with Cordelia when my ego has bloated up. In this wedding, there's the three of us. Buffy, Cordy, and me.

"But I don't want it to stay that way. I don't want Buffy to be tied, morally, to me. I want her to have her own story so that she doesn't have so much time on her hands that she plans out my entire wedding!" Another few snickers. Buffy, too, was enjoying this. Especially the way Will's mouth had fallen open. "And I'm grateful to her for everything she has done for me for these last three months, ever since I showed up on her doorstep, begging for help. But now, I want her to get her guy back – even if she has to kill him to give him enough sense to see what he should – so that Cordelia can learn her responsibilities!"

As the crowd tittered, a dumbstruck Will turned to look at the woman next to him. She smiled.

"So, Buffy and Will, get over it! We love you, you love yourselves and each other – get off your horses, guys!" Angel spoke exasperatedly, almost, and Cordelia, Xander and Anya besides him held up their glasses to say, "Hear, hear!"

"You guys will have to endure another of my speeches later," Angel was now telling the crowd, "Because this one was solely for Buffy and Will. So, everyone, please hold up your glasses to my amazing friend, Buffy Summers, and my ass of a cousin, William Giles," Everyone seemed to obey so Angel said, "May they earn the sense God gave a cat, and find their way home."

Another laugh and then a murmur of assent passed through the crowd.

The music came back on. The same song she'd been listening to.

Will swallowed hard as he looked into Buffy's eyes. She was smiling the same smile she'd had the entire evening and now, as he took a tentative step closer to her, the smile seemed to waver. Her eyes were brighter – sparkling with tears, he realized. And in that moment, he hated himself for making her cry.

He cupped her cheek and, as she closed her hand around his, he stroked away the tears that she was letting fall. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth... I-I'm such an ass, I shouldn't have gone away like that and, oh my, I-I've be-been so horrid to you, and—

"Will," She borke him off with a soft finger against his lips. "It's okay. I forgive you only if..."

His heart skipped a beat.

"... you forgive me," She ended.

He stared at her, eyes wide in awe of this amazing woman. Gulping down emotion, he croaked, "'Lizabeth... I love you."

She started crying earnestly, then, uncaring of her gold makeup. Throwing her arms around his neck, Buffy smashed her mouth against his and through the pain, they found their lips and gave into a game their bodies had refused to forget. When they broke apart for breath, she whispered against his lips, "I love you so much."

He responded by kissing her neck while her hands went automatically back to where they should always have been – in the soft curls of his hair.

They didn't know for how long they were kissing, but all that broke them off, in the end, was the feel of a cold raindrop against her cheek. Buffy broke apart from him and looked up at the clouds, a grateful smile on her lips, swollen with kisses.

As the heavens opened, the people below them ran for cover. But Buffy just pressed herself closer to Will and kissed him harder.

In between kisses, he told her softly, whispering against her neck, "I'm home, 'Lizabeth."

_When the rain is blowing in your face  
and the whole world is on your case  
I could offer a warm embrace  
to make you feel my love  
When evening shadows and the stars appear  
and there is no one there to dry your tears  
I could hold you for a million years  
to make you feel my love  
I know you haven't made your mind up yet  
but I would never do you wrong  
I've known it from the moment that we met  
no doubt in my mind where you belong  
I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue  
I'd go crawling down the avenue  
Oh there's nothing that I wouldn't do  
to make you feel my love  
The storms are raging on the rolling sea  
and on the highway of regret  
the winds of change are blowing wild and free  
you ain't seen nothing like me yet  
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true  
nothing that I wouldn't do  
go to the ends of the earth for you  
to make you feel my love_

_A/N: Well, we're done. Honestly, this chapter took a long time to write and, I admit, it could be done better but honestly, would you really wait? There's just an epilogue left, then, bye bye first fiction. As always, let me know what you think!  
_


	32. Epilogue

_**The Road Home  
**Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.  
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat._

_A/N: This is the final thing, the epilogue. You guys can review if you want. Now, I have to get to work on a new fic I'm calling 'The Parchment', first chapter of which will be put up sometime in mid September. It's B/S (what else?) and includes my twisted take on a love spell. That's all. Let me know what you think._

_**Epilogue**_

Willow let out a heavy breath as she closed the door behind her. Looking at Tara with eyes that were surprised at how tired she was, she said, "Well, I'm _sooooo _glad that's over!"

Lying on her stomach on the bed, Tara smiled. "Don't you like weddings?"

"No, that's not it," Willow said thoughtfully as she came to sit next to Tara. "It's just... a _double_ wedding? Where you have to plan _everything_? No, I'm not a big fan of those." She shuddered and added, "Plus, I had to ride with Xander and Anya, so you can imagine that..." She shuddered again at the mental imagery. "I think even our chauffeur was glad to be rid of them, he drove off so fast!"

Tara laughed and pushed her magazine away. "Yeah, I totally understand that." She moved slightly and Willow, still in her bridesmaid's dress, fell back next to her.

They lay silently, for a while, as Willow played with the end of Tara's sash. Tara watched her fondly before asking, "So... where's our golden couple?"

A chuckle escaped willow and soon, she was rolling in the small space that she had, heaving with laughter. Tara watched her, amused, waiting for Willow to calm down. When she did, she said, "Sorry, sorry... it's," She broke off into a giggle, "so funny, how stupid they are, you know. I think all that bleach really affected their brains."

Tara chortled. Then, she said, "Where are they, though?"

"They came in to change – Buffy said her dress would dissolve if it got any wetter – then they were planning on going out again."

Tara stared. "Out?" She echoed. "At this hour?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the time. Three AM, practically. "In _this _weather?" Willow nodded and Tara fell silent for a moment. "Where will they go?" She asked, soon.

Willow smiled. Getting off the bed, she motioned for Tara to follow her as she crept up to the windows. Tara followed and, as Willow jerked aside the curtains, she regretted having the balcony that looked directly over the small park that was at the side of the hotel.

Standing in the pouring rain, Buffy and Will danced to the rhythm of raindrops hitting the ground and kissed. Their hazy forms were illuminated by the street lamps and the moon. Buffy, apparently, had changed to get wet again. As the girls watched, Buffy leaned up on her toes and bit Will's ear. They broke apart and he chased her around the garden before pinning her to the muddy ground and attacking her mouth with his.

Tara smiled and grabbed the curtain from Willow. "Privacy." She said, scolding.

Willow just grinned and let the heavy curtains fall back into place.

Later, as they lay together in bed, Tara said, "Willow... I have bad news..."

"What?" Willow was exhausted and sounded sleepy as she spoke into the pillow.

Fighting unsuccessfully to keep a smile off her face, Tara said, "We'll have another wedding, soon."

Automatically, Willow groaned. Then, as Tara's words registered, her eyes widened. "_What?"_

She nodded. "He said he'll ask her right now."

Willow let out a whoop as grabbed Tara into a fierce hug and kissed her. "I'm so happy!" She exclaimed, "This is so cool!"

"it is, isn't it?" Tara said through laughs.

"Yeah," Willow let go of Tara's head to allow her girlfriend to breathe. Suddenly she added, "But promise me one thing, Tara."

"What?"

Grinning, Willow said, "We'll let Anya and Xander plan this one."


End file.
